Small Steps
by AnnaGandalf
Summary: Molly Hooper has been keeping a secret. How will she and Sherlock cope when all is revealed?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This has been in my head for the last week and I've finally got round to writing it, it's set after the end of Reichenbach Falls so SPOILERS. Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA!**

Small Steps

Chapter 1

Molly had instantly agreed when Sherlock had asked for help. They were friends, at least in her eyes, and friends help each other. Molly also knew he was the type not to ask for aid unless he was desperate, and he wouldn't joke about the gravity of the situation.

Molly trusted Sherlock explicitly and believed what he had told her, he may be a self proclaimed sociopath, but he wouldn't resort to kidnapping just to boost his ego. Having been used by Moriarty she knew what he was capable of, the mere idea of him getting away with everything, while Sherlock rotted in a cell, sent a shiver down her spine.

It was only now that she began to question her decision to help. So far Sherlock's plan had gone without a hitch, the bedding lorry had broken his fall and the cocktail of drugs had convinced both John and the police he really was dead. Molly had done her part switching his body with the corpse of a homeless man found dead a few days earlier, someone no-one would miss.

Though it sounded morbid, the body switching wasn't Molly's problem, it was what came next. She had agreed to let Sherlock lay low at her flat for a while. Molly knew she wouldn't be able to keep her secret if he was living with her, but she couldn't turn him away now. He had just faked his own death to save his friends and she was contemplating kicking him onto the streets. It was wrong. She would just have to tell him the truth, how hard could it be?

As Molly waited for Sherlock to regain consciousness she tried to decide on the best way of telling him. She had vigilantly been keeping it from him since they had first met, almost two years previously. Molly didn't know how he would react, would he be angry at her, or disappointed in himself for not working it out?

Probably the latter, she decided, but looking down at him she couldn't help but hope he'd understand. Lying on the slab he looked peaceful, his curly hair slightly damp from where she had cleaned the fake blood from his head. Molly had never seen Sherlock looking so calm, he was always so busy, both in body and mind.

While watching the reassuring movement of his chest, the drugs had only stopped his heart for a few minutes, she made up her mind. She would tell him outright and then let him decide everything else for himself.

Suddenly Molly noticed Sherlock's eyelids flutter, he was waking up.

Approaching slowly she spoke to him a soft voice. "Sherlock, you're safe. Everything worked perfectly."

"John?" Sherlock mumbled groggily.

"No, it's Molly, Molly Hooper." She moved towards him and took his hand gently. Expecting him to push her away, she was surprised when he gripped her hand tightly, obviously he was still confused. "Do you remember what happened?"

"No... Yes... Where am I?" His speech was improving, but he still wasn't making a lot of sense.

"You're in St Bart's. Moriarty was after John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. You jumped off the roof." She was about to continue when recognition flashed across his face.

Sherlock sat up quickly, pulling his hand from hers. "It worked? They're safe?" His questions were hurried, urgency colouring his voice.

"Yes and yes." Molly answered briefly, she could see his eyes flickering around the room, easily deducing the answers for himself. "We just need to get you out of here."

"Of course." He replied, abruptly standing up. "Do you have the clothes?"

Molly just pointed to the counter where his simple disguise was neatly folded. Sherlock grabbed the pile and walked out of the lab.

Molly used his absence to get her breath back, she hadn't expected him to recover so quickly. The combination of drugs he had consumed would have nearly killed an average person, but then again Sherlock was anything but average.

Hearing the door reopen she quickly turned to face him, Molly barely recognised the person standing there. So used to his suits, the sight of Sherlock slouching in jeans and a hoody was shocking. The hood pulled up over his head meant anyone sparing him a passing glance would never realise who he really was.

"Let's go." He stated, turning to leave again.

Molly grabbed her bag and hurried after him, having trouble keeping up. She followed him out of an exit even she didn't know about and they quickly ended up on the street.

It was now or never Molly decided. "Sherlock we need to go this way." She called to him, pointing in the opposite direction.

"But that's not the way to your flat." He quickly countered.

"I know, I haven't been entirely honest with you." Molly spoke quietly, half not wanting him to hear. "I'll explain everything if you just follow me. Please." She crossed her fingers, hoping he would trust her. He was already staring at her with a calculating look on his face. Blatantly trying to deduce what she had been hiding from him.

After a few moments he hesitantly agreed, motioning for her to lead the way.

Molly started down the street, Sherlock sticking close to her side, head ducked to hide his face.

"You said you'd explain." Sherlock said.

"I will." She quickly replied. "Or at least I'll show you. Just bare with me." Sherlock didn't reply, still attempting to figure it out. Molly could almost hear the cogs in his brain whirring as he rapidly rejected idea after idea. She briefly wondered if he would work it out, he was brilliant and intelligent, a genius by anyone's standards. But Molly had been careful, making sure she left him no clues.

Molly stopped outside a nondescript building. "Can you just wait here?" She was nervous, still unsure of what his reaction was going to be. "I'll only be a minute."

Sherlock nodded and Molly quickly entered the building, leaving him leaning on the wall endeavouring to look inconspicuous.

Knocking on the first door she came to Molly waited briefly for it to open. A few seconds passed before a cheery looking woman pulled the door open.

"I'm so sorry Vicky. I was held up at work."

"It's fine Molly. Any time." Vicky replied. "I'll just get him for you."

Molly wouldn't have been able to cope for the last two and a half years if she hadn't found Vicky. She was a godsend.

Vicky quickly returned carrying a small boy. "Here you go." She said, passing the child carefully to Molly. "He's worn out, it's been a long day."

Holding the sleeping boy to her Molly spoke quietly. "Thanks again. I've got the next few days off work so we probably won't be back until Thursday, but I'll ring and let you know for definite."

They said their goodbyes and Molly left the cosy flat. As she approached the door to the building she paused, steeling herself.

Leaving the building she stepped in front of Sherlock, he was still in the position he'd been in when she left, not appearing to have moved a muscle. Molly took a deep breath before finally speaking.

"Sherlock this is Ben, my son."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 2

Sherlock stared at the toddler in Molly's arms, this wasn't right, Molly didn't have a son. However the dots quickly began connecting, how she quickly rushed off immediately after they left the lab if he and John visited near the end of her shift. The way she reacted to the bodies of children being brought to her lab. So many subtle clues that he missed.

He looked at the child more closely, it, he, Sherlock corrected himself, had short hair, the exact same colour as Molly's. Mother and child looked incredibly similar except for the toddler's deep sea green eyes.

Noticing the child had woken, Sherlock looked back up at Molly. She looked worried, obviously apprehensive about his reaction.

He hated to admit it but he still didn't fully understand. Questions were cycling through his mind, begging for answers to fill the gaps they left. There was only one way to get them.

"You said you'd explain." He spoke with a softer voice than usual. He knew, not from experience, that young children often didn't like the presence of strangers. Sherlock didn't want the toddler to start crying, he was certain he wouldn't be able to think in the presence of a screaming child.

He noticed Molly hesitate before beginning her explanation. "Just over three years ago I was dating someone called Robbie, he died in a car accident." She took a deep breath, steadying her voice before continuing. "We'd only been together six months. I didn't realise I was pregnant until after the funeral." Molly paused again. "Ben's the best thing that has ever happened to me." She said with a tone of finality.

Sherlock looked at the child again, Ben was fully awake now and stared back. Unable to break eye contact Sherlock spoke to Molly without looking up. "Why didn't you tell us about him?"

"I didn't want you to judge me." Molly said honestly. "I'm not ashamed of him, I love him. _People_ are quick to judge and I liked having at least part of my life private, so I just didn't tell anyone."

Sherlock heard the inflection on people and knew it was intentional and aimed at him, he was known for making snap judgements. One glance normally told him everything he needed to know. How wrong he'd been about Molly.

"I'm sorry." Molly finished.

"It's okay." Sherlock replied. "I don't understand, but I'm sure your intentions were good. I trust you." He had realised earlier that evening, when asking for Molly's help that he trusted her, but it wasn't until now that he realised how little he really knew about Molly Hooper. He knew the basics of course, measurements, favourites, work schedule, but he hadn't looked beneath that. He had assumed she was a plain, one dimensional pathologist.

"Thank you Sherlock." Molly shifted her son slightly, rubbing small circles on his back. "You've been surprisingly understanding."

It was true he admitted to himself. The night's events had shown Sherlock what it meant to care for someone. The impossible situations sentiment put you in.

"Shall we go back to the flat now?" Molly asked him. "I need to put Ben to bed."

Sherlock inclined his head in agreement and followed her down the pavement. He had already worked out the route she would take them, accounting for his need to stay away from people it would take four minutes longer than her normal journey. As continued in 'auto pilot' mode he concentrated on how this change of circumstances would effect his plans.

Sherlock had originally planned to stay at Molly's and spend his time tracking down the other major players in Moriarty's web of criminals. Did the introduction of Molly's son need to change this?

He was sure Molly would understand his need for peace while he worked and would act accordingly, keeping her son out of the way and quiet. It was too late to ask someone else for help, everyone else thought he was dead and would take a lot of convincing otherwise. Never one for modesty Sherlock would be the first to say how well his plan had worked.

If anything Sherlock was impressed that Molly had managed to keep the knowledge of her son's existence from him. That was promising he thought, if she could withhold information from him he was sure she would be able to keep his existence a secret.

Finally making his decision Sherlock spoke into the awkward silence that had been growing between them. "I assume I can still stay with you, even though I know about Ben?" He was only ninety percent certain of what her response would be as he now found himself questioning everything he thought he knew about her.

"Yes. I mean if you still want too. I'd understand if you didn't want because of..." Molly paused, trying to think of the right phrase. "What's come to light."

"Even with this development, staying with you is the most practical and convenient solution to my problem." Sherlock's eyes flickered down towards Ben. "I'm sure I'll adapt to anything else unexpected."

Being honest Sherlock found the idea of living with a toddler intriguing, like an experiment. He had very little experience with children of any age, maybe he would learn something living with Molly and her son. He may not be interested in trivial facts about the universe, but the development of the brain fascinated him, maybe he could implement some of the techniques he had read about.

By now they had reached Molly's building. Sherlock watched as Molly carefully unlocked the door, cautious of jostling her son. As they walked up the flight of stairs, to her first floor flat, he swiftly analysed the other inhabitants.

Flat 1: young male, mid twenties, near the end of a semi-serious relationship judging by the marks left on the door from frequent slamming.

Flat 2: married couple, both late forties, husband a serial adulterer who hides his wedding ring under the plant pot when he goes to meet his mistresses.

But Molly's door revealed nothing, no additions, no clues. If Molly wasn't heading towards it he would have headed towards the stairs.

However, upon it opening it became abundantly clear that a young, working, single mother lived there. Children's toys and books littered the floor, and medical journals the table. The corner of the rug was flipped up from where she had tripped when late for work that morning.

Sherlock looked up at Molly before proceeding past the doorway, his mother had at least taught him manners, he just didn't always use them.

"Make yourself at home." She said, smiling at the cliché, in this case he literally should. "I'm just going to put Ben down and then I'll be right back."

After watching her leave Sherlock moved further into the flat. Information flooded his brain, every sight, sound and smell revealed some small part of Molly's previously hidden life to him.

When the initial onslaught had subsided he gently sat on the edge of the sofa, careful to avoid the slightly chewed toy car, and tried to sort through what he had just learnt. Sherlock now knew how careful Molly had been trying to keep her two lives separate.

As Sherlock was midway through this process Molly re-entered the room, she leant against the small kitchen table and waited for him to speak first. Knowing that now he knew all the facts, all his deductions would be spot on.

Several minutes passed before Sherlock said anything, by this point Molly was quietly humming some inane nursery rhyme to herself. "I'm not good with children." It was a simple statement, seemingly innocent.

"Okay." She replied hesitantly, unsure of the point he was making. "Can we talk more in the morning Sherlock? I'm shattered and Ben, therefore all of us too, will be up at six tomorrow."

"Of course." Sherlock was glad of the excuse not to talk now, this gave him a chance to consider everything again. "Goodnight Molly."

"Okay." Molly said again. "I'll show you where everything is and explain..." She quickly ceased talking at the sight of the look Sherlock gave her. "Of course, you've already worked it all out." He just nodded in response. "Goodnight Sherlock."

Sherlock slowly made his way to the airing cupboard and retrieved a sheet and duvet. Returning to the sofa he removed the toy and fixed the sheet. He knew he was too tall for the couch, but it looked more welcoming than the floor.

It wasn't comfortable as his feet were hanging over the armrest but it didn't bother him, he didn't sleep much anyway, it was a waste of his time. Sherlock just lay there staring at the ceiling, analysing every detail of the day, reviewing every memory. Suddenly John's face popped into his mind, Sherlock found himself wondering how his friend was coping, if he was coping. He felt a twinge of guilt but it disappeared as he reminded himself it was his only option, he had saved their lives.

After a couple of hours Sherlock slowly drifted to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry about the erratic uploads, been super busy. At Plymouth Pavilions all Saturday, but hopefully will update again soon. Extra long chapter now to make up for it.**

**Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 3

Molly awoke to the sound of her son's cries. She glanced towards the illuminated numbers on her digital clock, 5:30. She had had less than four hours sleep. Still half asleep she quickly exited her room and crossed the small hall to Ben's bedroom.

Upon entering Molly gasped in shock. Someone was hovering above her son's crib. She flicked the light on and felt a rush of relief when she realised it was Sherlock, still dressed in the disguise from the previous night.

Sherlock looked up at her, a confused look on his face. "Ben was crying. I didn't know what to do." Molly thought he looked like a schoolboy about to be told off.

"It's not your fault Sherlock. Toddlers cry." She reached down and picked her son up, noticing that Sherlock promptly backed away, putting some distance between himself and Ben.

Ben had been talking for a while and could now string words together to form short sentences. "Mummy." He said, the crying stopping as he flung his short arms around Molly's neck. "Food time?"

"That's right." Molly cooed. "Let's get you some food." She continued chattering to her son as she left the small room for the kitchen.

After placing Ben in the high chair she began preparing his breakfast. As Molly chopped up a banana she noticed Sherlock lingering in the corner, watching them intently.

"Talk to him." Molly said. "He's still learning new words."

"What do I talk about?" Sherlock asked?

"Anything, everything."

Cautiously Sherlock approached the child. "Hello Ben." He said stiffly. At the sound of his name Ben looked up, fixing Sherlock with his curious gaze.

"Relax Sherlock." Molly said. Placing the plate of fruit down on the tray of the high chair she spoke softly to Ben. "Ben, this is Sherlock. He's going to be staying with us for a while."

Then, motioning for Sherlock to follow her, she sat at the small kitchen table.

"I'm guessing you want to discuss our situation."

"No." Sherlock replied curtly. "I have already considered all the variables, me staying here is still feasible, practical if you will. So I shall remain here as I planned." He spoke quickly, without pausing for breath. "If that's still alright with you?" He added as an afterthought.

"Sure, that's fine." Molly said. "I said you could stay and I meant it."

"Perfect." Sherlock leapt to his feet. "Let's go out, I need to get some supplies."

"Won't you be recognised?" Molly questioned, she had assumed he wouldn't go into public spaces until he had cleared his name.

"No. Wearing this and with a family, it's the perfect disguise."

"If you're sure." He nodded briefly. "I'll get Ben ready then. It will take a while, so if you want a shower?" Molly walked over to Ben who had finished eating and was now playing with the plate. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Sherlock heading towards the bathroom.

After changing and dressing Ben she returned with him to the living room/kitchen. Sherlock was once again perched on the end of the sofa.

Molly placed her son on the floor and he immediately dashed off to play with some toys. Turning to Sherlock she asked. "Can you watch him while I shower?" Seeing the look of horror on his face she quickly rephrased her request. "I'll only be ten minutes, can you manage to keep him from dying?"

"But... I..." Sherlock stuttered the before Molly cut him off.

"You'll be fine. Shout if you need anything." She said, already leaving the room.

* * *

><p>Sherlock had never been responsible for another human being before. Even though Molly was less than ten metres away the notion terrified him.<p>

Eyes fixed on the toddler, he shifted slightly, angling his frame towards Ben. He watched, transfixed, as Ben made towers out blocks. Sherlock hadn't seen such an innocent action in years, always surrounded by adults he knew almost all actions had some ulterior motive.

However as Ben, now bored of the blocks, stood up and made his way towards him, Sherlock found himself getting off the sofa and sitting cross legged on the floor. He didn't know why he did it, but being down at Ben's level felt more natural.

Ben just stood before Sherlock, also staring, equally intrigued by the person in front of him. Soon bored of this too, he turned and attempted to run out of the room.

Sherlock struggled to his feet about to dash after the toddler, already imagining hundreds of possible dangers. Finally standing straight, he found himself face to face with Molly, freshly showered and dressed, holding a squirming toddler in her arms.

"He's faster than you'd expect." She said, setting Ben on his feet, but keeping a tight grip on his hand. "Shall we go then?."

Sherlock couldn't help but examine Molly, now wearing a loose fitting t shirt and skinny jeans. She was so different from the Molly he had known the previous day. Instead of wearing a lab coat she had a brightly coloured bag slung across one shoulder, obviously containing all the necessities involved with being a parent.

Realising he had been staring and hadn't yet answered her question he quickly agreed and followed her out of the flat.

Upon reaching the outside world Sherlock, somewhat casually, slung his arm around Molly's shoulders. Shocked, Molly looked up at him, his hood once again pulled low over his face. "What are you doing?" She inquired.

"We have to to act like a family, avoid suspicion." He whispered, leaning close to her ear. Sherlock heard her breathing hitch, but she didn't reply, Molly just turned her attention back to her son who was happily chattering to no-one in particular.

As they approached the high street Molly stopped and turned towards him, picking her son up as she did. "So what do we need?"

"Well first I want hair dye, so I can stop wearing this ridiculous hood. Speaking of, I'll need some new clothes, and a phone." Sherlock rattled off the list at speed.

"I don't mean to be rude." Molly interrupted. "But how are you going to afford all this? I can lend you maybe £100, but that's it."

"I have multiple 'rainy day' accounts I can easily access." He replied, gesturing to a nearby ATM. "All under different aliases of course."

They headed for the machine, Molly waiting slightly back as Sherlock entered his PIN. "Oh. And I need cigarettes." He added.

"You are not smoking in my flat." She flatly refused.

"Why not, they help me concentrate." Sherlock said, now facing her, a wad of cash in his hand, a look of defiance on his face. Since his parents had died Mycroft had always tried to tell him what to do. He had hated it, he had enjoyed having the freedom to do what he wanted, what interested him. Once again someone had taken that freedom away from him, this time Moriarty, and Sherlock knew he would do anything to get it back.

"I have a young son." Molly sounded slightly angry, it was clearly a topic she was passionate about. "He is not going to die an early death because of your second hand smoke."

"Well statistically he's more likely to be killed in an unprovoked assault than..."

"No Sherlock, just no." Holding her son close to her she turned and headed towards the chemist, Sherlock quickly following.

He knew all about the health risks to himself, John had loved to quote the statistics at him, but he had never considered the risks to others. An image of Ben, trapped in a smoke filled room, slowly suffocating entered his mind.

He would stick to nicotine patches.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was bored of shopping, but he knew it was necessary. They had almost got everything, all that was left was a few food supplies.<p>

Sherlock merely observed as Molly filled the basket he was holding with items. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a familiar figure walk into the shop. Grabbing Molly's hand he swiftly pulled her and Ben behind some shelves.

"Sherlock what's..." Molly managed before she was cut off by Sherlock's hand covering her mouth.

"John just came in." He whispered hastily.

"Crap. Why would he be here?" It's nowhere near Baker Street." She looked over her shoulder, sure enough John Watson was barely fifteen metres away, perusing the sandwich selection.

"He must have come to see you, he's obviously just stopping to buy some lunch." Sherlock replied.

"_Obviously_." Molly muttered sarcastically. "Here take Ben. I'll go talk to him, distract him so you two can leave."

Without a chance to refuse, Sherlock suddenly found himself awkwardly holding the toddler to his side, the baby bag over one shoulder.

With a slight shove Molly pushed him towards the other aisle before heading over to John.

Sherlock glanced down at the child he was now carrying. He shifted his arms slightly trying to find a more relaxed position. Ben just stared up at him, bemused by the situation. All of a sudden the toddler's face scrunched up, even Sherlock knew he was about to start bawling. What had Molly said... talk to him.

"Hey Ben." Sherlock said, keeping his voice soft and low. "It's alright, Mummy will be back in a minute, we just need to stay really quiet."

It seemed to be working, so Sherlock kept talking. "We're just going to go this way and leave the shop, then we'll meet Mummy outside." It was no different than explaining the situation to blithering idiots like Anderson, accept Ben didn't interject with unhelpful comments.

As they slowly made their way to the exit Sherlock kept one eye on John. His best friend looked terrible, his clothes were crumpled and his eyes rimmed with red.

Sherlock felt awful, it was his fault John was like this. He should have never involved the army doctor in his life, then Moriarty wouldn't have gone after him. It was only the child in his arms that stopped Sherlock tearing out of the shop and finding something to punch.

He managed to restrain himself, he was currently responsible for Ben, he had to act like it. Tearing his eyes from his friend he casually walked out of the shop, trying his best to avoid attention.

Lingering near to the entrance he kept entertaining Ben, keeping his back to the shop door. With his hood up no-one but Molly would recognise so he knew he was safe.

His eyes fixed on the reflection in a nearby window, he watched the entrance waiting for Molly to appear. Normally incessant talking irritated him immensely, but Sherlock found talking to Ben surprisingly enjoyable. The toddler's reactions fascinated him and the repetitive nature of Ben's replies were intriguing. He decided the child currently knew about three hundred words but was picking up new ones at a remarkable speed.

Sherlock noticed Molly and John leave the shop, he turned slightly ensuring his face was still hidden but the toddler was in plain sight of the exit, that way Molly was sure not to miss them.

Watching as they said their goodbyes Sherlock wished he could go over to them. It was a stupid idea but he wanted to speak to John, thank him for always being there.

After parting ways Molly directly made her way over to Sherlock and Ben. As she approached them she held her arms out and Sherlock wordlessly passed her son to her.

"That was way too close." She said. "We need to be more careful next time." Molly knew there would be a next time, she couldn't imagine Sherlock cooped up in her flat twenty four seven.

"When's the funeral?" Sherlock asked.

"How did you...?" Molly started before backtracking. "Of course you know. It's tomorrow at three. Vicky should be able to take Ben."

"You're going then?" Sherlock inquired sullenly. He briefly wondered who else would be there. He didn't have many friends, merely acquaintances. John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade would surely attend, maybe his brother. Everybody else he knew probably believed Kitty Riley's story, thought him a fake.

"I have to. I should be seen to pay my respects and be there for John." Molly avoided looking at Sherlock as they discussed his funeral, it was too awkward. She quickly changed the subject. "I think we've got everything, let's go home."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favourited and added for alerts.**

**Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 4

The trip back to Molly's flat was once again silent.

Molly wanted to speak but one glance at Sherlock quickly convinced her not to. His face was blank, betraying no hint of emotion. She he knew he was currently locking his feelings away. He obviously thought that detaching himself from the situation would help clear his mind, however Molly had seen his expression when he had seen John enter the shop. She understood the longing he felt. She had felt that too, when she found out she was pregnant she had wanted nothing more than to have Robbie back.

If anything it was worse for Sherlock, she decided, he was at a complete dead end. John was alive at least, Sherlock re-entering his life could lead to his execution. Even if it was cruel to let him grieve for someone who wasn't dead it was the lesser of two evils.

Molly recalled John's appearance as he had invited her to Sherlock's funeral.

_John's face was gaunt and his clothes wrinkled, he blatantly hadn't eaten or slept since Sherlock had jumped off the roof of St Bart's. She could barely see the resemblance between the always friendly ans cheerful ex-soldier from only a few days earlier and the dejected, unkempt John Watson who she was now speaking to._

_After a brief greeting he had quickly got to the point of his visit. "I was just wondering if you wanted to, um, come to Sherlock's funeral." John's voice broke on the word funeral. "It's tomorrow at 3:00, St Thomas' Chapel."_

"_Sure, I'd love to." Molly answered without thinking. "Not love to, I mean I'd be honoured. Thank you for the invitation." She blushed, slightly embarrassed at the way she had stumbled over her words. She was eager for John to leave so she could return to Ben and Sherlock._

"_Okay." John replied. "I had better go and finish arranging... things."_

_As they left the shop together they said their goodbyes. Just before they parted Molly hugged John tightly, trying to show how sorry was she was in that one embrace._

_Watching John walk away Molly noticed his shoulders slump as he let the façade drop, returning to his even more sullen mood._

By now Molly, Sherlock and her son had reached the flat. The trio entered and headed for the kitchen. Shutting the door behind them she again places Ben on the floor, at least this way he was restricted to only causing havoc in the one room

Opening the fridge she pulled out all the necessary ingredients to make some sandwiches.

"Do you want something Sherlock?" She asked.

"No, I don't eat while I'm on a case." Sherlock replied, he was currently unpacking his shopping, neatly folding the clothes and placing them on the sofa.

"You're not on a case."

"Yes I am. As I have already explained I am going to be spending my time here tracking down Moriarty's accomplices. That constitutes a case." He said briskly.

"That could take months. You have to eat something. Jam or cheese?" Molly gestured to the two fillings available.

"But eating slows me down." He retorted.

"No arguments." Molly said sternly. "What would like in your sandwich?"

"Cheese please." Sherlock finally answered reluctantly.

As Molly continued to prepare the simple lunch she watched the other two occupants of the room. She smiled as she saw Ben approach Sherlock, who was now observing his new possessions. The child raised his arms towards the detective, requesting to be picked up.

After glancing around the room Sherlock complied, lifting the toddle up and holding him gently on one hip.

By this point Molly had finished making the food, cheese sandwiches for herself and Sherlock and jam ones with the crusts cut off for Ben. Placing the plates on the table she motioned for Sherlock to put Ben in the high chair.

Soon enough the three of them were ready to eat, while tending to her son Molly noticed methodically cutting the crusts off his sandwiches. Thinking about if Molly had never seen him eat anything substantial, only the odd biscuit with his coffee. He was always too busy, as he said eating, though necessary, slowed him down.

* * *

><p>Sherlock slowly chewed his sandwich, he wasn't really hungry but kept eating. He knew the human body could last almost a month without any food and he had last eaten only three days previously. He was going to mention this to Molly but didn't want to upset her, she still looked stressed from her conversation with John.<p>

Instead he settled for finishing his lunch and watching Molly interact with her son. She looked so natural and Sherlock decided he preferred this way. Especially compared to the way she had dressed up for the Christmas Party. Her face make-up free and dressed in casual clothing Sherlock thought she looked anything but plain.

Over the last day his estimation of Molly Hooper had increased a hundred fold. She was now confident around him and could hold her own in a conversation. Seemingly the only thing that had been holding her back was the secret she had kept.

Sherlock suddenly wondered if the situation with Moriarty and Molly would have happened if they had known about Ben from the beginning.

Then it hit him, had Moriarty found out about Ben.

"Does Moriarty know?" Sherlock asked abruptly.

"What?" Molly replied, confused by the sudden, random question.

"You dated him." A look of disgust briefly crossed Sherlock's face. "Did 'Jim from IT' find out about Ben?"

"Of course not. I was just as careful around him as I was you."

A feeling of relief flooded though Sherlock, Ben was safe. The protective way he had reacted confused him, why did he care so much. Trying to play down his panic he spoke as calmly as possible, attempting to sound uninterested he tried to pass it off as something that had just crossed his mind. "Good, just wondering."

Molly merely shrugged and returned to her food.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed quickly. Molly, enjoying her time off, spent it playing with her son. Sherlock meanwhile hijacked her laptop, quickly guessing the password; Ben's birthday backwards, and started on his task.<p>

It wasn't until early evening that the subject of Molly and John's conversation was broached. Ben was asleep and Molly was watching telly, Sherlock next to her still typing away. He had point blank refused to eat any teas and Molly had eventually given up trying to get him to eat. One meal that day would have to do.

"Sherlock I need you to do something for me tomorrow." Molly said, muting the TV as she spoke.

He didn't reply, his eyes still fixed on the laptop screen, so she continued.

"I need you to look after Ben for a couple of hours in the afternoon." At this Sherlock looked up, now fixing Molly with his piercing gaze. "So I can got to the funeral, Vicky's ill so can't take him."

"I can't look after him." Sherlock said quickly. "Can't you ask someone else. Your parents?"

"I was practically disowned whey they found out I was pregnant. Apparently I was a disgrace to the family by having a child out of wedlock." Her eyes started fill with tears. "They called Ben a bastard and have refused to see me or him since I didn't give him up for adoption." A solitary tear ran down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

Sherlock wasn't hindered by this though, immediately ready to offer up another solution. " Take Ben with you, John loves kids."

"I can't do that to John. He feels betrayed enough as it is, you jumped off a building after claiming you had been continuously lying to him. If I told him I'd been keeping this from him he'd never trust anyone again."

"But I wouldn't know what to do." Sherlock had run out of alternatives so just tried to dissuade Molly from leaving Ben with him. "What if he cries?"

"You'll be able to deduce what's wrong and fix it." Molly had already mentally discussed her options. "You're good at problem solving."

Sherlock had run out of arguments, he just closed his eyes and shook his head as he racked his brains for another excuse.

Suddenly he felt Molly's warm hand on his. "Sherlock it will only be a couple of hours." He opened his eyes to find himself face to face with Molly. Her brown eyes staring intently at him. "I'll have my phone if anything drastic happens. I trust you."

That clinched it for him. He had felt so protective earlier about a hypothetical threat to Ben and had only known of his existence for a day. That must be incomparable to how Molly felt about her son. Sherlock knew that the fact she would leave Ben with him meant she really did completely trust him.

"Okay." He finally agreed, inclining his head slightly.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favourited and added for alerts.**

**Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 5

Sherlock was not looking forward to babysitting Ben for the afternoon, the infant still fascinated him, but he wasn't sure if he could deal with him by himself for more than a few minutes.

Sherlock was currently watching Ben nap in his playpen while Molly dyed his hair. He hadn't slept the previous night, instead working continuously on Molly's laptop. He had started a meticulous search through the government's data-banks, slowly closing the net on Moriarty's web.

The lack of sleep over the last few days however, was starting to catch up with him.

This combined with the lazy circles Molly was tracing on his scalp as she rubbed the dye into his roots, was making his eyelids start to droop.

* * *

><p>Abruptly he started awake. The light in the sitting room was now off, but Sherlock could still hear Ben's regular breathing.<p>

Quietly Sherlock stood and left the room. A small rustling sound alerted him to the shower cap covering his now blond hair.

Still half asleep he distantly remembered reading the label of the dye the previous day. It had been very clear in stating the time it should be left in for.

Now panicking Sherlock hurried to find Molly so she could wash it out before it did some damage.

Sherlock burst into the bathroom, having heard the sound of running water.

"Molly!" He half shouted. "I need you to wash this dye out now, I think it's starting to burn." Sherlock watched the silhouette he could see through the shower curtain jump slightly at his sudden entrance.

"Sherlock, I'm in the shower." Molly replied curtly, annoyed.

"So? Quickly Molly, the dye."

"Christ Almighty." Molly huffed. "There are still another five minutes until the dye needs to be washed out. You looked exhausted so I thought I'd let you sleep." As she spoke Sherlock saw her shadow move back under the spray, rinsing the soap form her hair and body. "If you wait for a couple of minutes I'll do it when I'm done here."

"Okay." Sherlock answered and promptly sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

"I meant outside." Molly said.

"But time is of the essence Molly. Didn't you read the packet, if the dye is left in contact with the scalp for a prolonged period of time it can lead to burns or hair loss or..."

"Okay." She interrupted, shutting off the water and grabbing the towel folded over the rail.

Sherlock started to list some more harmful side effects but found himself unable to speak as Molly stepped out of the shower. He watched transfixed as she appeared from behind the curtain, a towel wrapped around her.

Sherlock had looked at Irene Adler's naked body and not felt a thing, still able to think clearly and analytically. So why did Molly Hooper's dripping form foggy his mind and send a flash of arousal through his body.

As he stood there staring he noticed a pink blush start to spread from her face. It continued down to the tops of her breasts, disappearing behind the towel tucked around them. The arousal Sherlock felt started to centre itself, just below his waist.

A small cough brought Sherlock back to the present. Looking back up to her face, now red with embarrassment, he saw that Molly was looking extremely uncomfortable.

However, unperturbed by her near nakedness she began to speak.

"Sit on the chair and tip your head back." She commanded.

Sherlock did as he was told, leaning back so his upper body was over the bath. Molly reached behind him and grabbed the shower head, turning the water back on as she did so.

As she rinsed his hair she once again ran her fingers through his curly locks.

Sherlock had never experienced such an extreme onslaught of feelings before and this, combined with Molly's hands in his hair, was becoming unbearable. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Molly seemed to sense his agitation and with one last spray of water finished her task.

The second her hands left his hair Sherlock quickly exited the room, rushing to separate himself from the situation before it became too much.

As soon as he could no longer see her semi naked body he began to feel calmer, even though the image was still dominating his brain.

Sherlock spent the next twenty minutes trying to clear his mind of all thoughts involving Molly Hooper.

Having neared the end of this laborious process Sherlock finally found himself able to open his eyes, pulling the laptop towards him he tried to do some work. However the second Molly entered the room, clothed by this point, Sherlock's breathing and pulse quickened involuntarily.

Molly was now dressed all in black. She wore a black blouse tucked into a black skirt, due to the unseasonably nice weather Molly hadn't donned tights, instead opting for bare legs and black pumps.

As Sherlock appraised her outfit he kept his gaze fixed on the laptop, only looking at Molly through the corner of his eye. He watched as she kissed the top of Ben's head and then cautiously made her way over to him.

"Sherlock I've got to go."

Reluctantly he looked up, meeting her gaze for the first time since he had practically run out of the bathroom. Sherlock felt a slight blush tinge the tops of his ears as the image oh her towel clad body flashed in his minds. He instantly closed his eyes, attempting to force the image away.

Molly, judging this strange reaction to be irritation, quickly continued talking.

"Ben's still asleep, when he wakes up give him the snack I've left out." Molly motioned towards the carton of juice and biscuits on the counter. "Then just try to keep him occupied. I'll be two hours max."

"You don't have to go." Sherlock pointed out for the hundredth time.

"I do." She said. "Thanks again Sherlock." Molly ducked in and kissed his cheek then quickly hurried out of the flat before he had a chance to reply.

Sherlock just sat there in stunned silence. The cheek she had kissed seemed to burn, as if it ad been touched by a branding iron and not her soft lips.

After a couple of minutes Ben's cries disturbed his reverie. The toddler had awoken and immediately wanted to get out of the playpen.

Sherlock crossed the room and picked the child up, sitting him on his hip. The crying stopped as Ben considered the man holding him.

"Mummy?" The child questioned, his voice still trembling on the edge of tears.

"No." Sherlock answered. "Mummy's gone out. Do you want your snack?" Sherlock tried to keep his speech slow so the toddler would understand. In most conversations the understanding, or lack thereof, often found in the other party didn't bother him, apart from being annoying. By this point however, Sherlock knew he needed all the help he could get, even if that help came from a two year old.

Sherlock grabbed the carton and passed it to the eager toddler, also picking up the biscuits before returning to the couch. Now seated again Sherlock shifted Ben so he was sitting on his lap comfortably.

He watched enthralled as the child quickly drained the juice and moved on to the biscuits, apparently used to this routine. After finishing these too Ben looked up at him expectantly.

"What do you want to do?" Sherlock asked, unsure of things toddlers found enjoyable.

"Down please." Ben said, struggling slightly to remove himself from Sherlock's loose grip.

Sherlock merely waited as the infant toddled to the other side of the room, coming back with a small, hardback book.

"Story?" Ben asked, lifting his arms so he could be returned to Sherlock's lap.

Sherlock looked at the cover of the book, 'The Cat in the Hat', it was going to be a long two hours.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So sorry about the massive delay, you all probably assumed I'd abandoned this. I haven't just had multiple crises recently. No real excuse I know, but I'll try to update more often. Thanks to everyone who sticks with this. X**

**Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 6

Molly worried as she walked down the shaded street, she trusted that Sherlock wouldn't purposefully harm Ben but the detective was easily distracted and lost interest in menial tasks quickly.

The sun was shining, but the tall buildings either side of her absorbed most of the heat, shivering slightly she quickened her pace.

Reaching the small chapel Molly paused, unsure of what to expect inside. Sherlock didn't have many friends and the newly reported 'scandals' centred on him had probably both put off genuine well-wishers and encouraged scheming journalists.

Pushing the old door open, she stepped into the chilly building. Like most chapels St Thomas's was high ceilinged and possessed a sense of silence and calm. Molly's religious parents meant she had spent a lot of her childhood in chapels like this, running through the pews with other children and listening to the vicar drone on about God and the Bible.

She quickly made her way towards the altar where the small congregation of people were gathered. As she approached she heard John's distinct voice.

"Thank you all for coming. It would have meant a lot to Sherlock."

As the others began to again offer their condolences to John, Molly took the chance to examine the people she was stood with.

John was stood near the centre of the group, looking tired and depressed, Mrs Hudson next to him holding his elbow gently, her eyes also red from crying. Other than Inspector Lestrade and Mike Stamford, Molly didn't recognise anybody else there, there were only fifteen of them in total, the majority men dressed in suits, office workers by the looks of it.

One woman stood out to Molly, she was young and wore a black dress. Molly watched as she approached her.

"May I ask how you know the deceased?" She asked Molly.

"I'm Dr Molly Hooper; I worked with him at St Bart's."

"Of course." The woman replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Anthea; I work for Sherlock's brother."

"His brother?" Molly questioned. "Is he here?"

Anthea shook her head. "No, he was unavoidably detained, an urgent meeting." Abruptly Anthea turned and walking away, typing hurriedly on a blackberry.

Although slightly shocked by his absence, Molly decided the brothers must not be close, she had certainly never heard of him.

* * *

><p>Sherlock glanced towards the clock, Molly had only left forty minutes ago. He had already read The Cat in the Hat twice, Ben perched on his lap, turning the pages and pointing eagerly at the pictures. Sherlock hoped he never had to read about Thing 1, Thing 2 and the Cat ever again.<p>

Sherlock and Ben were now sitting on the floor while Ben fashioned unidentifiable objects out of playdough and Sherlock attempted to stop him eating them.

He could have never have imagined how much concentration it took to look after a child, there were so many hidden dangers.

A distinctive knock at the door startled Sherlock briefly, but he quickly deduced who it was.

After placing Ben in the playpen he headed straight for the door. He had never really thought he would be able to fool his brother. He wrenched the door open.

"Mycroft, what a _pleasant_ surprise."

"The feelings mutual, I assure you." Mycroft replied, stepping swiftly into the small flat. On the outside Sherlock's brother looked like your typical government official; smart suit, balding head, briefcase, but it was the cold, calculating look in his eyes that set him apart from the rest. Having grown up with him, Sherlock knew what this look hid, his brother was intelligent and manipulative, Mycroft's deductive skills were second only to Sherlock and the late Moriarty.

"So, you persuaded Ms Hooper to take you in then." Mycroft continued. "All it took was some more well placed compliments I assume."

"Firstly, it's **Dr **Hooper." Sherlock said sharply. "And secondly, once I explained my plan she offered, apparently we're friends."

A few seconds of silence passed and the Sherlock heard a faint buzz emanate from Mycroft's trouser pocket. His brother quickly reached down, retrieved the phone and read the text.

"It would appear you and the doctor are friends, as she is currently attending your funeral." Mycroft finally replied. "So are you going to introduce me to her son? I've been waiting almost two years to meet him."

"How did you?" Sherlock started to ask before rephrasing. "How long have you been spying on my acquaintances for?"

"Dr Hooper?" Mycroft paused, pondering. "Since you first showed an interest in her in the mortuary of St Bartholomew's. It is my job as both your brother and as a member of the British government to keep tabs on you Sherlock. That includes investigating your colleagues."

Sherlock scowled, he was annoyed that his brother had found out about Molly's son before he had.

Recognising the signs of annoyance on Sherlock's face, Mycroft repeated his question. "May I meet her son, Ben is it?"

"If you feel a desire to Mycroft, I shall not stop you." Sherlock said sullenly before turning and retreating to the living room.

The toddler was now standing in the centre of the playpen, a multi coloured soft ball in his small hands. Sherlock carefully lifted the child up and gently placed him on the floor.

The ball still in his hands Ben watched quietly as Mycroft entered the room. Suddenly the toddler dropped the toy and began to cry. Sherlock immediately picked up the screaming child and held him close to his chest, rocking him slightly.

"There, you've seen him. Your mere presence has driven him to tears. I think it's time you left Mycroft." Sherlock was immensely annoyed that his brother had ruptured the peace he had managed to maintain for over an hour. Before Mycroft had appeared there had only been laughter and inane chatter from the little boy.

"Certainly. Don't get too comfortable with your little family Sherlock. Moriarty wasn't the only person looking to kill you." Mycroft took one more look at his brother with the still screaming Ben in his arms and then took his leave.

* * *

><p>It had taken Sherlock almost twenty minutes to calm Ben down. No amount of explaining how his brother was a pompous arse seemed to work. Eventually Sherlock started pacing the room, the sobbing infant still in his arms, trying to come up with another idea. Surprisingly the pacing seemed to work.<p>

Now, finally, Ben was quiet and content. The child was sitting on the soft carpet colouring with some crayons.

Sherlock sat cross legged watching the child and mentally going through the list of people who could want him dead. The list was long and extensive; ranging from people he had helped to imprison to the terrorists he had saved Irene Adler from in Karachi.

Hearing the front door unlock, he stood up to greet Molly. However she dashed passed him and picked up her son who eagerly put his arms around her neck.

After pressing a kiss to Ben's forehead Molly looked at Sherlock.

"Was everything okay?" She asked.

"Fine." He replied curtly. "And how was the funeral?" He inquired, trying not to sound too interested.

"Moving, but short. John had prepared a eulogy but Mike Stamford ended up having to read it instead."

Again the face of his roommate flashed in Sherlock's mind. The image of a distraught John Watson was unbearable. Sherlock quickly turned away from Molly and Ben, grabbing the laptop he returned to the work he had been doing hours earlier.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 7

Over the next few days Molly repeatedly tried to broach the subject of his funeral with Sherlock. However he quickly rebutted each of her attempts. She barely had to mention the word 'funeral' and he would either leap from his seat on the sofa and leave the room, or fix with a stare that sent a shiver down her spine and made her drop the subject.

By the end of the week she had had enough.

"Sherlock we have to talk about this." Molly was stood above Sherlock who was sat on the sofa, her laptop on his knees. "It's not healthy to just avoid the topic, you've barely eaten, let alone slept, since the funeral."

Sherlock went to stand, but Molly blocked him and pushed back to the couch. "We are going to talk about this Sherlock." She said forcefully.

Finally managing to stand up Sherlock towered over Molly, who took a step back having seen the look now gracing his face.

"There is** nothing** wrong with me Molly." Sherlock almost shouted. "I have only lived with you for a week, do not claim to know me. I obviously didn't know everything about you." He looked pointedly at Ben who was clutched to her hip. "And you know next to nothing about me."

With that he side stepped around the shocked doctor and left the flat.

Molly was dumb struck, she had seen Sherlock in a bad mood before, sometimes acting downright rude, but never has she seen him so angry. He looked ready to kill.

Suddenly she felt worried, he had left the flat. He was meant to be dead, he couldn't just walk the streets of London, especially in that mood.

Quickly she readied her son and also left the flat, determined to find Sherlock.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was livid, he had made it perfectly clear to Molly that he didn't want to talk about the funeral, even he would have understood the blatant signals he had given.<p>

Upon leaving the flat he paid little attention to where he was going, he felt better just being out of the flat. He hated being so cooped up, without a space of his own. At Baker Street John would never have dared enter his room, but at Molly's he had no privacy. He practically lived on the small sofa and even that was regularly invaded by Molly and her son.

This added to the frustration he felt at his inability to find all of Moriarty's network, had significantly darkened his mood. Then Molly had refused to stop asking him about the funeral and he had lost it.

Abruptly Sherlock realised how much rougher the area he had wandered into was compared to Molly's neighbourhood. Not caring he headed for the nearest pub, he wanted a cigarette and Molly had forbidden him to smoke in her flat.

He quickly headed across the crowded bar, aiming for the cigarette machine, in his hurry he accidently walked into another man, spilling his almost full pint.

"Oi, gotta problem have you mate?" The obviously intoxicated man yelled.

Sherlock ignored him and continued towards the machine. Suddenly a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder, wrenching him around to face the now irate drunk.

"I said, have you got a problem?" The man repeated, now being cheered on by his friends. Sloppily he aimed a punch for Sherlock's jaw, Sherlock quickly ducked and elbowed the man in the gut.

"I heard what you said, _mate_, I just decided to ignore you and your unimportant opinions." Adrenaline pumping, Sherlock once again turned to leave, again he was pushed back towards the drunk, this time by the crowd circling the pair.

This time the man's aim was true, his fist landing squarely on Sherlock's jaw, splitting his lip open. Sherlock retaliated, now trying for the guy's face.

As the fight continued Sherlock began to forget about everything else, his 'suicide', Molly, and their confrontation, instead focussing on this one. It was only when he heard the police sirens did he come to his senses, he was meant to be dead, he couldn't get arrested. If he did it would all be over and once again his friends' lives would be at risk because of him.

Sherlock hit the guy one last time and then quickly ran for it, pushing his way through the others, many of whom were also fleeing at the sound of the sirens.

Sherlock kept running, in what he thought was the right direction for Molly's flat. After about ten minutes he stopped in a side alley and collapsed against the wall. The adrenaline was wearing off and he could now feel the injuries he had obtained. Breathing heavily he mentally listed them: split lip, black eye, possible broken nose, cracked knuckles and bruised jaw, face and ribs.

He would just wait here and then try to make his way back to Molly's when he had regained some strength, Sherlock decided.

* * *

><p>Molly have been searching for Sherlock for over an hour, scouring every side street in the vicinity of her flat. Now it was starting to get dark and Ben was getting grouchy.<p>

Sherlock could have returned to the flat already, she thought, he would have to eventually, as they both knew full well, he had nowhere else to go.

As Molly turned to return to her flat she heard a low grunt from the alley to her right. She quickly backed away, holding Ben tight to her chest, ready to run to safety.

Her breathing began to slow as she recognised Sherlock's silhouette, illuminated by the nearby street light. Just as she realised something was wrong Sherlock fell to the ground, exhaling sharply from the pain.

Molly rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him she tried to assess the situation.

"Oh god Sherlock, what happened?"

"Fight." Sherlock was barely able to speak, the one word explanation all he could manage.

Molly placed Ben on the ground and gave him a toy to keep him occupied. With half an eye on her son she started her examination. The facial injuries were obvious, but not serious, he was lucky not to have broken his nose, his still blackening eyes showed the force at least one of the punches had packed. She quickly discovered the bruising to his ribs when he hissed in pain at the gentlest of touches. Carefully she lifted his t-shirt up, exposing his both bruised and chiselled abdomen. Focussing only on the bruising Molly pressed firmly, checking for any distortion due to internal injuries.

After finding none she looked back up at his battered face.

"What were you thinking?" She asked. Sherlock gave a non-committal shrug, wincing at the pain the simple action caused. "You're going to be in pain for a few days, but you'll live. If it had been any worse I would have had to take you to hospital. How would you have kept your secret then?"

Sherlock didn't reply, instead fixing his gaze on Ben, who was completely oblivious to the entire situation.

Molly let the silence carry the weight of her words for a few more seconds and then picked her child back up. "You're going to have to try to walk Sherlock. We need to get back to the flat."

After a lot of effort Molly managed to help Sherlock into an almost upright position. With one of his arms slung across her shoulders and Molly bearing most of Sherlock's weight, the trio managed to hobble back to Molly's flat.

* * *

><p>Eventually they reached the flat, it took almost twenty minutes for them to negotiate the stairs, but finally Sherlock was sat on the sofa. Molly briefly left Ben with him while she went to fetch Sherlock some painkillers and water.<p>

Returning to the pair she found Sherlock almost asleep where he sat. With a gentle shake to his shoulders she roused him and got him to take the tablets. She then left him to nap again while she put Ben down for the night.

Before waking Sherlock again, Molly went to the kitchen to get the basic first aid kit, it had been a long time since she had dealt with a living patient, but she hadn't forgotten the seven years training she had done prior to specialising in pathology.

After cleaning and dressing Sherlock's wounds, Molly helped him stand once more and led him to her room. He tried to stop her, but she ignored his mumbled protests.

"You are injured Sherlock, you need a proper night's rest." She helped him sit on her bed. "You can sleep here and I'll take the sofa. Now sleep." Molly had barely left the room before Sherlock was out. She looked at him one last time before turning out the light, despite his bruised face he looked peaceful.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for all the review for the last couple of chapters. Thanks to: MarvelDC superhero fan, SteamPunk'93, coloradoandcolorado1, annie, MuteBanana, Zora Arian, That Purple One, ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, PrincessSYS, barus and maharet97. I love reading them. Please keep reviewing.**

**Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 8

Sherlock awoke with his head throbbing. Squinting into the darkness he pieced together what had happened the previous night. He had been a fool. Acting due to his emotions and not thinking with his head.

Knowing he should apologise to Molly, Sherlock tried to sit up, gasping from the pain in his ribs. After a few minutes he had managed to manoeuvre himself to be sitting on the edge of Molly's bed, his feet on the floor.

Just as he was about to attempt to stand, light flooded the room. Molly stood in the doorway, a disapproving look on her face. However upon seeing his expression she quickly changed tact.

"You're the worst patient I've had in years Sherlock." She said as she moved towards him.

Sherlock grimaced at her attempt at humour. "Of course I am Molly, all your other 'patients' are corpses, naturally they cause you very little bother." Molly ignored his condescending statement and instead leaned forward to help Sherlock stand up.

The pair, with Sherlock once again leaning heavily on Molly, carefully made their way to the living room. After slowly lowering Sherlock on to the couch, Molly fetched her son and placed him next to the injured man.

"Watch him while I get you both some food." She told Sherlock.

He started to protest, but Molly quickly cut across him. "It was not a question Sherlock, you will eat. You need to eat to regain your strength."

Shortly she returned with three meals, sitting down next to Sherlock, Molly placed the food on the low coffee table and her son on her lap. She quickly began to feed Ben, looking to the side she noticed that Sherlock had yet to move.

"If you're unable to feed yourself I will feed you to. " She threatened.

Reluctantly Sherlock leaned forward, picking up a forkful of the hot pasts and slowly eating it, before returning the fork to the dish. He had intended to only eat one bite, but the mouthful of pasta had alerted him to how hungry he was. In no time at all he had finished the plate and felt surprisingly satisfied.

After they had all finished eating Molly cleared the mow empty plates and then sat back down next to Sherlock, turning slightly so they were facing each other.

"Shall we talk about last night then?" She asked, but the look on her face told Sherlock he didn't actually have an option.

"I let my emotions control my behaviour. It was stupid. It won't happen again." Sherlock stated clearly.

"That's no excuse to go around starting fights Sherlock." Molly scolded.

"Technically I didn't start it, he threw the first punch." He interrupted.

"God, I feel like I'm explaining this to Ben." Molly sighed. "No matter how angry or upset you are, you shouldn't hit anyone."

Sherlock scoffed quietly, but Molly, distracted by her son asking her something, didn't hear.

* * *

><p>The next couple of months passed quickly, Molly and Sherlock falling into an odd routine. Luckily, Sherlock had healed enough to not require Molly's help after only a few days rest, as Molly had had to return to work.<p>

Now, while Molly worked and Ben was at Vicky's, Sherlock tried tirelessly to track down the rest of Moriarty's criminals, often working on Molly's laptop until the early hours.

At least since the media attention had finally died down Sherlock felt more comfortable leaving the flat, always with both Molly and Ben as they were an essential part of his disguise.

It was on one of the trips out that Sherlock decided to inform Molly of his progress. They were in the park, sitting on a large checked blanket, he gently tapped Molly's shoulder and she turned to look at him.

"Yes Sherlock?" She said, before turning back to blow more bubble at Ben, who desperately tried to catch them before they hit the grass and burst.

"I've tracked down Moriarty's entire network, so we'll need to take a trip to Scotland Yard." He said briskly.

"That's brilliant." She replied brightly, hugging him in celebration, having temporarily forgotten hi aversion to contact.

Sherlock however had stopped minding Molly's hugs a long time age. Ever since he had moved in with her she had taken to hugging him regularly. Often she did before she left for work, and whenever she left Ben with him, she would hug first Ben, also kissing her son's forehead, and then Sherlock. Alongside this Sherlock often found himself putting his arm round Molly when they were out in public. He told himself it was to complete the disguise, but really it just felt comfortable, maybe even normal now.

"Wait a minute." Molly said. "**We **need to go to Scotland Yard, why can't you go by yourself?"

"I can't just waltz in there. They all think I'm dead, once they get over the shock of my being alive, the idiots will arrest me for kidnapping those children."

"Okay, but why do you need me?" She asked.

"If you go in and ask to talk to Lestrade, I can convince him in private and then he can help clear my name." Sherlock finished.

"But what if Greg doesn't believe you, you could still get arrested."

"Hopefully he will, he's the best they've got, but if needs must you can always contact my brother and he'll pull some strings." Sherlock looked towards Ben. "Don't let him near Ben, I don't think Ben likes him." He added.

"Ben's never met Mycroft, how would you know that?" Molly questioned.

Sherlock quickly glance away, he had failed to mention his brother's visit, preoccupied with other things. "Mycroft may have visited me at your flat while you were at my funeral." Sherlock said sheepishly.

"You're telling me that our brother knows you're alive and you just didn't think to inform me of that." She replied angrily.

"I didn't think it was necessary. Mycroft has spies everywhere; he was always going to find out."

Molly sighed, standing up as she said. "There's no time like the present, I know you've got the laptop in your bag. Let's go."

Sherlock nodded and also stood, swiftly folded the blanket and put in in his satchel next to the laptop.

As they walked to the nearest underground station Sherlock once again put his arm around Molly, occasionally leaning down to whisper deductions he made about other pedestrians in her ear.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and congratulations to Steven Moffat and Andrew Scott for winning at the BAFTAs last night!**

**Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 9

As Molly looked at the man next to her, the man currently bouncing her son on his knee, she considered how their relationship had changed in the months they had lived together. Before she had helped Sherlock fake his own death they had been merely acquaintances, colleagues in a way, Molly liked him; in more way than one, but it was clear the feelings had not been reciprocated. However now they were infinitely closer, Molly could tell his mood from the colour of his eyes. Sherlock obviously carefully controlled his facial expressions, but he had no control over his eye colour. Molly knew when his eyes were dark silver; his mood was also dark, but when they were green, verging on emerald; he was cheerful and approachable.

As they sat there on the tube, hurtling underneath London, Sherlock's eyes were a mixture of both grey and green hues. Molly understood he was tense, for obvious reasons. She also realised that he was trying to keep these feelings from her, a calm and cheery look fixed on his pale face. He was sat close to her, one arm slung around her, the other holding Ben tightly as he bounced and chattered away. Molly tried not to focus on the arm weight of his arm around her shoulder, she knew he only placed it there to complete the façade, the icing on the cake for this particular disguise.

Just as she was thinking this, Sherlock leaned towards her. "It's the next stop Molly." He said quietly in her ear.

A flush of heat ran through her as she felt his warm breath on her ear. Molly nodded in response and began to sort out her things.

After disembarking the train the trio quickly left the station, Sherlock still carrying Ben. They walked in silence towards the large building that currently housed Scotland Yard.

Suddenly, a couple of hundred metres from the entrance, Sherlock stopped, he gently grabbed Molly's arm and pulled her, with him and Ben, to the edge of the pavement.

"This is where I need your help Molly." Sherlock said, his grey-green eyes boring into hers. "Lestrade is about to go on his lunch break. You need to go in and ask him to come with you for a drink. Say you need to talk." He paused, looking around. "Bring him to the King George's." Sherlock pointed to a pub across the street. "I'll be waiting there with Ben." With that he started to walk away from Molly, Ben in his arms.

"Wait, Sherlock." Molly half whispered, not wanting to bring attention to who she was with. "Why would he come with me? Greg barely knows me."

Sherlock looked her up and down, focussing on the sundress she was wearing. "Trust me, he'll come. Did you really not notice the way he looked at you at the Christmas party?" This time he did leave, crossing the road before Molly had a chance to reply.

Molly slowly began to walk towards the entrance, Greg couldn't think that, no-one admired her; she was too plain, too ordinary. She continued contemplating the prospect as she entered Scotland Yard. She quickly asked the bored looking receptionist if she could speak to Detective Inspector Lestrade and was told to wait and he'd be down shortly.

As she sat there waiting she decided that it couldn't be true. Sherlock must have just been being himself and feeding her compliments to get her to do what he wanted.

However on seeing Lestrade's beaming expression as he recognised her, a niggle of doubt burrowed into her mind.

"Molly, it's good to see you." Lestrade said, hugging her briefly.

"You too Greg." She replied. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go and get a drink, I wanted to talk to you … about Sherlock." She hesitated slightly, it was only then that she realised she hadn't seen Lestrade since Sherlock's 'death', Sherlock being the only thing they had in common.

Lestrade also hesitated, his grin faltering momentarily. "Of course, it's been to long since we spoke last."

"It has." Molly agreed, glad he had complied so easily. "The King George's?" She suggested.

"Yep, sounds good to me." Lestrade replied eagerly.

As the pair walked the short distance to the pub, they exchanged the usual pleasantries, both asking about each other's work. Upon entering the pub Molly excused herself to go to the ladies, asking Greg to order them some drinks. As she made her way through the dimly lit bar she spotted a tall, blonde, curly haired man sitting in a booth in the corner, a toddler by his side.

After looking back to check Lestrade wasn't watching, she slid in opposite the pair. "He's here. What do I do now?" Molly asked quietly.

"Just bring him over her and I'll do the rest." Sherlock replied, not looking up. Molly could see his features had subtly hardened, he was steeling himself for the confrontation that was sure to come.

Molly returned to Lestrade, who was still standing at the bar, paying for the drinks he had ordered. "The hand dryers in there are awful." She lied, shaking her perfectly dry hands lightly. "I saw a table we could get though."

"Lead the way." Lestrade said, now holding both drinks, a white wine for her and a pint of lager for him.

Molly walked determinedly back towards Sherlock and Ben. Greg quickly realised which table she was aiming for. "Molly there are people sitting there, there are plenty of other tables."

She looked back at him. "They're my friends; they're saving it for us. You don't mind if they join us, do you?" Molly asked an innocent smile on her face.

"Of course not." Greg replied, suddenly down heartened, he wasn't going to be alone with Molly, maybe all she wanted to do was talk about Sherlock. Because of this sudden change of mood, Greg didn't recognise the man sitting at the table as he slid along the bench, allowing Molly room to sit next to him.

Molly promptly sat next to Greg, effectively blocking him in. "Greg, I think you know my friend…" She started to say, but was abruptly cut off by the sharp intake of breath that accompanied the inspector's shock of recognition.

Greg was barely able to speak, let alone form audible sentences, he just sat there, mouth gaping, and stared at the man he had believed to be dead.

"I'm sure you have many questions Inspector, but if you would allow me to explain myself first hopefully many of them will be answered in the process." Sherlock said politely.

Lestrade was still incapable of speech, so Sherlock took the silence for affirmation. "As is obvious, I did not really die when I jumped off the roof of St Bart's. Instead I have spent the last few months gathering evidence against Moriarty and his band of criminals. I have now, finally, completed this task. With your help I can take down the entire network. So, will you help me?"

Lestrade chuckled quietly. "I never thought I'd see the day that Sherlock Holmes would ask me for my help." He said more to himself, than anyone else. "But then I guess I never thought I'd see you again." He said louder, this time directed at Sherlock.

"Greg are you alright?" Molly asked. "I know it's a shock, but you must believe him, you know Sherlock wouldn't have done those things."

"I don't know what I know anymore." He said quietly. "He managed to convince everyone he was dead. How do we know what he's capable of?"

Sherlock exchanged a worried glance with Molly, he had expected Lestrade to be more rational than this.

"Sherlock tell Greg why you pretended to kill yourself." Molly said. "Then maybe he'll understand." She looked pointedly at Sherlock then Greg. "I'm going to take Ben and order us some food."

Lestrade had seemingly either forgotten about or not noticed the toddler perched next to Sherlock. "Wait. Who's Ben?" He asked, more confused than before.

"Ben is my son." Molly stated as she picked he child up. "I'll explain after Sherlock has, his is much more important." Molly walked away, heading back to the bar.

Sherlock and Lestrade just sat there staring at each other, both temporarily distracted by Molly's swift, if temporary, departure.

"So why did you do it Sherlock?" Greg finally asked, intrigued.

Sherlock took a deep breath; he didn't like talking about this side of himself, even if Molly said it was a quality to be admired, he still half believed that caring was a weakness. However, living with Ben and Molly was starting to change his opinion on that.

He succinctly explained to Lestrade about the gunmen and threats, managing to finish before Molly returned. Lestrade was genuinely touched by Sherlock's story, he had not realised he was anything more than a hassle to the consulting detective.

"I've ordered you both burgers, I hope that's okay?" Molly queried as she sat back down next to Lestrade, this time with Ben on her knee. Both men just nodded.

Lestrade now had his gaze fixed on the child next to him. "You said you'd explain." Lestrade reminded Molly.

Molly opened her mouth to reply but Sherlock started talking first. "Ben is Molly's son, as she has already mentioned, she kept him a secret so we would not judge her. Ben's father died before Ben was born. God Lestrade, is it not obvious?"

Lestrade felt the sides of his mouth twitch with amusement, even after 'dying', Sherlock had not changed. He full on smiled as he heard Molly scold Sherlock. "Don't be mean Sherlock." She said. "Just because you didn't work it out either."

"How old is Ben?" He asked Molly, trying to break the silence that had suddenly descended, both Molly and Sherlock now scowling at each other.

"Two." Molly said, turning to look at her son as she spoke. "But he'll be three next week."

"If we could return to the matter at hand." Sherlock interrupted. "Will you do it Lestrade?"

"Of course." Greg replied. "But we'll have to be careful, I don't think the rest of the force will take your reappearance so well." Sherlock scoffed, it was common knowledge that most, if not all of Lestrade's colleagues hated Sherlock. Lestrade continued. "I'll bring it in as an anonymous tip off. Once we've arrested them all, you can resume your status among the living with a cleared name."

The logistical talk continued until the food arrived a few minutes later. The topic of conversation then switched to kids, both Molly and Greg discussing the perils and pleasantries of parenthood. Sherlock meanwhile sat in silence, picking at his burger.

After eating the four parted ways, before turning to leave, Lestrade spoke solemnly. "I'm sure this will be front page news when it all comes out. I think you should tell John yourself, before he reads it in the paper." With that Lestrade left, heading back to Scotland Yard, Molly's laptop under his arm.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Almost at 15,000 hits for this story (excited hand wave), thanks for all the reviews!**

**Anything you recognise belongs to (or is the brainchild of) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and/or Mark Gatiss. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 10

As Sherlock watched Lestrade walk away he considered what he had said. Sherlock knew he would have to face John at some point, but he kept shoving the thought to the back of his mind, locking it away in his mind palace. He missed his friend, more than he would have imagined. Sherlock had never had a friend like John before, the way John had automatically excepted all his flaws and irritating habits had bemused Sherlock originally. In the same way Molly's acceptance had.

Molly's voice brought Sherlock from his reverie. "Shall we go back then?" She asked.

"You two can, I need to do something first." He said, swiftly turning on his heel and striding in the other direction, not leaving Molly a chance to stop him.

After turning the corner he hailed a cab. While on the long journey across London he immersed himself within his mind palace, filing through everything he knew about one Dr John Watson. John was loyal, trusting and friendly, he could hold his own against most people, and he wasn't stupid, irrational or quick to judge. He was pretty much the ideal person for a woman to bring back to meet her parents, Sherlock concluded, apart from his fondness for trouble and his experience with guns.

As he approached his destination he resolved to tell John everything the next day, hopefully Molly would help once again. Sherlock had been on the receiving end of John's fist before and it definitely wasn't pleasant.

Sherlock left the cab after paying the driver, tipping generously as always. Carefully keeping his head down, he crossed the street and ducked into an alley. Quickly he pulled a small pad of paper from the pockets of his jeans, the pockets were nowhere near as deep as the ones in his coat had been, but he had still managed to fill them with the essentials he had procured from Molly's flat.

Hastily he scrawled a quick note, 'Is the doctor home?', wrapped it in a crisp twenty and passed it to the homeless man sat where the alley met the main street. Sherlock then leaned against the wall and pretended to flick through the music on an iPod he had retrieved from his jeans. While 'choosing a song' he watched the man cautiously unfold the note, glance towards the building opposite and then incline his head slightly.

Having the information he needed Sherlock stood up straight and crossed the road again. As he walked along the pavement he snuck a glance towards the familiar black door, the homeless man was correct, John was home, but only briefly it appeared, the door to 221B was slightly open. It was obvious from the state of the hall that Mrs Hudson was away, a two week holiday in Bordeaux, and it was clear, form John's smart but flustered appearance, that he was going on a date; the first since Sherlock had 'died'.

On seeing his former roommate leaving the flat Sherlock ducked his head and sped up significantly, now wasn't the time for them to reconcile. As he had deduced John did not follow him, instead heading the other way down the street towards the Thai restaurant.

Sherlock continued a bit further and then flagged down another cab. The second he was seated he returned to his mind palace, mentally subduing the feelings that had arisen from seeing John again.

Sherlock could not deal with feelings, he was renowned for his cold, unfeeling persona. Everyone knew Sherlock only 'helped' people to escape the tedium of everyday life. He had no desire to make them feel better, only solve the case; people's feeling need not come into things.

It was then, mere minutes from Molly's flat that Sherlock realised; if everything went well with John tomorrow this would be the last night he spend at Molly's. Life at Molly's had never been dull, not while she and Ben were around. Sherlock was used to the constant activity now, had grown accustomed to being left to look after Ben for short periods of time. It had only taken a few of these instances for Sherlock to decide he enjoyed the toddler's company, Ben was always interested in Sherlock and had often distracted Sherlock from the monotony of continuously researching Moriarty's network.

Sherlock got out of the taxi and let himself into Molly's flat using the spare key he had borrowed indefinitely.

Expecting to immediately hear Molly and Ben, Sherlock was slightly shocked when only silence greeted him as he stepped over the threshold. He quickly spotted the note left on the kitchen counter.

_Sherlock,_

_I've been called into work._

_I'll drop Ben at Vicky's on the way._

_Shouldn't be back too late, 10ish probably._

_Molly_

_x_

This was only the second time, since he had moved in, that Molly had been suddenly called into work, the last time had been to sort out a mess one of the junior pathologists had made. It didn't matter to him, he settled himself on the lumpy sofa and resumed planning what to say to John the next day.

* * *

><p>A few hours later Sherlock was abruptly disrupted by a knock at the door, he stood to answer it, carefully straightening his hoody. Opening the door he found Lestrade just outside, a concerned look on his face. Sherlock had seen him use that look before, the inspector used it to deliver bad news. Lestrade did not seem surprised to see Sherlock, so the news was intended for him, it could only mean one thing Sherlock decided; either John or Molly was hurt. Sherlock felt his breathing quicken involuntarily, he was nervous.<p>

Lestrade took a deep breath before speaking. "Molly's been mugged." Seeing a look of anger flash across Sherlock's face he quickly continued. "It's bad, but she'll live. She was sedated when I left, she had a bad concussion. They were about to send her for scans."

Sherlock ran the facts through his mind again, she must have been between St Bart's and Vicky's, on her way to pick up Ben, as Lestrade hadn't mentioned the child. Even though Lestrade had said she would be okay Sherlock felt a desperate need to see her for himself. Then a terrible thought ran through his mind.

"She was just mugged? They didn't do anything else…" He asked Lestrade.

"It appears to just be a violent theft." He replied. "There are no signs of sexual assault, she's already been checked." He paused watching the detective breathe a sigh of relief. "Sherlock, do you know where her son is? I assumed he would be here with you."

"He's at the child-minder's." Sherlock stated quickly. "Can I see Molly?"

"I suppose." Lestrade hesitated. "It's only meant to be family, but I can't find a number for her parents."

"They don't get on." Sherlock said. "They didn't approve of Ben being born without Molly being married, but then how she could have married his father when he was dead." Sherlock trailed off, unimportant facts streaming through his brain as he worried about Molly.

"I've got the car outside. Do you want a lift?" Lestrade asked, expecting Sherlock to decline as he always used to.

"Yes, it will be quickest."

Slightly surprised, but taking it in his stride, Lestrade motioned for Sherlock to follow him and started down the stairs. Sherlock hastily locked the door and trailed after the inspector.

* * *

><p>It did not take long for the pair of them to reach St Bart's, stepping out of the police car Sherlock immediately proceeded into the hospital, heading straight for the intensive care unit. From the injuries Lestrade had described that was the only place she could be. He could distantly hear Lestrade hurrying to keep up with his long strides, but paid him no attention, only focussing on seeing Molly, making sure she would recover.<p>

However as he was about to enter the ICU Lestrade grabbed his arm, stopping him swiftly. "Sherlock you can't just march in there. No-one bar Molly and I know you are alive." Lestrade said in a low voice, attempting not to draw awareness to them.

"I don't care…" Sherlock started to respond.

But Lestrade cut him off. "Also, she is not stable yet, they won't allow visitors. Any visitors." He reiterated. "I can check with a doctor, get an update, but you won't be allowed in." Lestrade had to admit he was shocked by the strength of Sherlock's reaction, he had assumed that Sherlock was using Molly, that he didn't care about her or her son. However it appeared that Molly had broken through Sherlock's shell.

Eventually Sherlock accepted what Lestrade said and sank into one of the hard, plastic chairs that lined the corridor they were in. He still felt terrible, like something was eating at his insides. Resigning himself to wait, he started sifting through his memories, trying to find something he could have done differently, something that would have prevented Molly getting attacked. Maybe if he hadn't gone to Baker Street…

The doctor's arrival cut this process short; he quickly explained to Lestrade that Dr Hooper would need surgery as the scans had shown some internal bleeding. She would be in hospital for around two weeks, he said.

After the doctor left, Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "Her son will have to go in to foster care, while she's here, if her parents won't look after him."

The image of Ben alone with strangers flashed in Sherlock's mind. "I'll look after him." Sherlock said quickly. "He knows me, and Molly won't mind. I can look after him at her flat while she's here."

Lestrade was again surprised; Sherlock Holmes was offering to help someone. "You can't Sherlock, you are not a blood relative, so Social Services won't allow it."

Sherlock considered this momentarily, there was no way he would leave Ben to go and live with strangers. "I'm sure I can get an exception." He said. "May I borrow your phone?"

Lestrade agreed and handed Sherlock his mobile, Sherlock turned slightly and punched in a number he had previously sworn never to ring. For the second time that day he found himself needing to ask for help.

After what felt like an age, the call was finally answered.

"Mycroft." Sherlock said reluctantly. "I need your help."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: As always all rights to Doyle, Moffatt and Gatiss.**

**Thanks to everyone that reviewed: The Mad Squirrel, MarvelDC superhero fan, annie, SteamPunk'93, Yeedle, TruffleHead,ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, Ericat15, lvPayne, chironsgirl, Vitawash, PrincessSYS, superlc529.**

**Also if anyone wants to design an image for the new story cover thing, private message me. I'm awful at that kind of thing and think it would be eif one of you could do something for it...**

**Sorry for the long author's note. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 11

After hanging up the phone Sherlock returned to the plastic chair, ignoring Lestrade's question he just sat there in silence, waiting. He maintained his position, chin resting on his arched fingers, until Molly's doctor, Dr Fletcher, returned.

Again Dr Fletcher spoke only to Lestrade. "Dr Hooper is going to be taken through to surgery in about five minutes. She's still unconscious, but her boyfriend." He gestured towards the still seated Sherlock. "Can see her briefly if he would like?"

Lestrade turned towards Sherlock expecting him to comment on the doctor's use of boyfriend, however Sherlock didn't, he immediately stood and entered the ICU. Lestrade thanked Dr Fletcher and then followed Sherlock.

Upon entering the room Lestrade saw Sherlock already stood above Molly's bed, staring intently at the injured woman. He could imagine the look in Sherlock's eyes as he looked down on Molly, Lestrade had instantly realised how much Molly had changed Sherlock. When they had met in the pub earlier that day the changes in the detectives personality had been obvious, Sherlock had been happier and more carefree. Lestrade had watched him interact, with both Molly and her son, in a manner he would never have expected from Sherlock.

"I'll give you a minute Sherlock." Lestrade said, Sherlock gave no indication that he heard, not responding in any way to the Inspector's comment. Taking the silence as Sherlock's approval, Lestrade left the room.

Now alone with Molly, Sherlock began pacing around her bed. She looked so innocent and fragile, he thought. From the distinct bruise on her right cheek, Sherlock could tell the attacker – male, mid-thirties had been wearing a ring. The mugger was six foot three and had easily been able to overpower the short doctor.

Sherlock continued his pacing until the nurses returned to take Molly to theatre. Before leaving the small room, Sherlock quickly bent down and kissed Molly's forehead, lightly pressing his lips to the only unbruised skin he could find.

Re-joining Lestrade in the corridor he resumed his pacing, this time up and down the narrow passageway. Again Lestrade attempted to speak to Sherlock, eventually resorting to stepping in front of the detective, forcing him to halt his striding.

"Sherlock, what have you done about Ben?" Lestrade asked.

"It is sorted." Sherlock replied through gritted teeth. "Here he is now." Abruptly Sherlock turned again and marched towards a woman standing at the end of the corridor. "Anthea." He said tersely, immediately taking Ben from her arms, careful to avoid waking the sleeping toddler.

"Sherlock." Anthea said, glad to no longer be holding the child. She brushed herself off before continuing. "Your brother sends his regards."

Sherlock snorted quietly and took the baby bag Anthea offered.

"Mycroft says to call him if there is anything else you need." With that she left, her blackberry out before she had gone through the door.

Sherlock slowly walked back up the corridor, focussing on Ben instead of Lestrade's confused stare. After reaching the inspector, he spoke quietly. "Mycroft had fixed it so I can look after Ben. Social Services will not question it." He sat down again and cautiously repositioned Ben so he was more comfortable.

Ben only remained asleep for another fifteen minutes; as soon as Sherlock felt the child begin to stir he started pacing again, a trick that had always calmed Ben before. However it didn't work this time, Ben seemed to sense that something was wrong, out of place. Maybe it was some unknown mother-child bond, Sherlock wondered. No, the stress of the situation must be getting to him, he thought, it wasn't some mystical bond; Ben just didn't like strange places. Sherlock considered taking Ben back to the flat then, but quickly thought otherwise, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to leave before knowing that Molly had got out of theatre, that she'd be okay.

Ben continued crying, but luckily the outright screaming slowly changed to silent sobs and eventually, after tiring himself out Ben fell asleep again. Sherlock finally looked up from the now peaceful toddler, Lestrade was watching him. Sherlock could see that Lestrade was shocked by his actions, in the past he had always been careless in the way he treated people, often shouting at distressed witnesses to save time. Molly and Ben had changed his outlook on feelings completely. Sherlock realised that the completeness of this change was only now becoming apparent to the inspector.

* * *

><p>After another hour of pacing Molly returned; wheeled back down the corridor by two porters. Sherlock quickly scanned the beeping machine attached her bed, drawing on all the medical knowledge stored in his mind palace; he satisfied himself that the readings were satisfactory. She would survive.<p>

He waited patiently for Dr Fletcher to return, he realised that the doctor's belief he was Molly's boyfriend would be solidified by his holding of her son, but he didn't care. If it meant he would find out about Molly's condition he was happy to uphold the role.

Sherlock stood by the door to the ICU, allowing him to see Molly, but keeping Ben from the beeping and whirring of the machines within the room. The toddler had almost woken when Molly had been brought back, but Sherlock had managed to rock the half-awake child back to sleep.

Lestrade approached Sherlock as he stood there, staring at Molly's unconscious form.

"Will you be alright with Ben on your own?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course." Sherlock replied abruptly. He had been on his own with Ben before, when Molly had to shower or change. I t wouldn't be very different; Ben always slept well and was very little trouble for Molly, from what he had observed.

Dr Fletcher arrived then, preventing Lestrade from continuing with his questions. "The surgery went well." He said. "The internal damage was not as bad as we first thought, hopefully Dr Hooper will regain consciousness by the day after tomorrow, and she should only need to stay in hospital for six or seven days. You may see her now if you would like?" He then led the way into the room.

Sherlock looked towards Lestrade. "Will you take Ben?" He asked.

Lestrade nodded and carefully took Ben from Sherlock, competently holding the child to his chest.

Sherlock entered the room and rapidly took in the details he had been unable to see from the corridor. Molly's bruising had developed during the operation, he could now clearly see handprints on her wrists. Sherlock clenched his fists, he would happily punch the person that did this to Molly.

Now away from Ben Dr Fletcher continued his explanation of Molly's operation. "We made a four-inch incision here." He pointed towards Molly's stomach. "There was some serious damage to her spleen, but we managed to…"

Sherlock tuned him out he had already learnt all this from the chart hung on the end of Molly's bed. Instead he finished his examination of Molly. He was momentarily glad that he could not see beneath the sheet covering her body, he was unsure of how he would react if he could see where the surgeons had cut into her, where her broken ribs were causing her pale skin to purple. He could normally rely on himself if nothing else, but Molly Hooper was invoking such strong emotions in him he now doubted himself. If he saw the rest of her bruised and broken body, would he be able to stop himself from hunting down the man that did it. He knew he shouldn't, he needed to return to Ben, but would that stop him.

After the doctor finished talking, Sherlock robotically thanked him and waited for him to leave, his eyes never leaving Molly's face. As Dr Fletcher left Sherlock moved closer to Molly, crouching down by her side. Tentatively he took her soft hand, examining the bruises forming on her knuckle from when she had tried to defend herself. He remained in that position until he heard Lestrade's soft knock, indicating that he now had to leave as well. Again Sherlock touched his lips to Molly's forehead, squeezing her hand gently as he did it.

Sherlock re-joined Lestrade outside the room. "They're going to move her now." Lestrade nodded towards the porter and nurse entering the ICU. "She's stable now so they're taking her up to the ward."

Sherlock just nodded and held out his arms, Lestrade passed Ben back to him. Sherlock held Ben close to him. "I need to take Ben back to Molly's flat." He stated, and slowly began to walk towards the hospital's exit, Lestrade following him.

"Okay. I'll take you back." Lestrade offered. "Save you getting a cab."

* * *

><p>In due course they reached the flat, Lestrade as Ben began to wake up, promising to return the next morning to take them back to the flat.<p>

After Ben fully woke up, it quickly became apparent that the night wasn't going to be as easy as Sherlock had originally thought. Try as he might he was unable to calm Ben down. He tried everything he could; even managing to find some of the classical music Molly liked to play around the flat.

Once Ben had once again cried himself to exhaustion and fallen asleep, Sherlock sat down on the sofa. Finally he had a chance to analyse the day. People were mugged every day, but he had never imagined that he would care when some insignificant person was attacked, however Molly was far from insignificant. Over the past few months she and Ben had grown to be important to Sherlock, but it was only today that Sherlock had realised the magnitude of this importance.

After another couple of hours, Sherlock found himself drifting off, still clutching Ben to his chest.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry for the wait, I've got a one-word explanation – exams. But they're over now, and I've officially finished college (!), so I've got more time to write. Thanks for putting up with me. Please read, enjoy and review. DFTBA! #believeinsherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 12

Sherlock awoke slowly, he could feel Ben's warm weight still on him, and he was able to count the toddler's slow, even breathing. He lay there content, glad that he had managed to get the child to sleep. Keeping his eyes closed, Sherlock methodically went through his mind palace, as he did after every time he slept, ensuring he never forgot vital information.

Sherlock remained inside his head for a long time, in part to allow Ben to continue sleeping, and also to finish going over the previous day's events. He felt a pang of anger hit him when he pictured Molly's bruised body, he would be glad to get his hands on the monster that did this to her, happy to give him a taste of his own medicine.

A sharp knock at the door brought Sherlock back to himself, carefully he stood up and placed Ben back on the sofa, covering him with a thin blanket. Quietly he walked to the door, checking the peep-hole before pulling it open.

"Lestrade." He greeted the inspector in low tones, conscious of the sleeping child in the next room.

Lestrade quickly picked up on the reason for his hushed tones and only nodded in response, Sherlock stepped out into the hall with Lestrade and pulled the door to, not quite shutting it completely.

"How is she?" He asked immediately.

"I rang this morning, she's still unconscious, but her recovery is going well so far. They sent her for another scan and it's all looking better. She's going to be fine." Lestrade replied. "I can take you back to the hospital now, if you'd like?"

"Of course." Sherlock said abruptly, and turned re-entering the flat, this time Lestrade following him. Sherlock softly picked Ben up, somehow managing not to wake him. The sleeping toddler against his chest, he walked around the room grabbing the things Ben would need for the day. Once again Lestrade marvelled at this new side to Sherlock, a very domestic side.

Ben woke, when Sherlock was part way through his task, and looked ready to resume crying, but the detective quickly distracted him by placing the toddler in his high chair and giving him his breakfast. Sherlock had decided to try and stick to Moll's routine as best as he could, it would be hard considering that he was planning on spending all day in the hospital, but he would have to manage.

After Ben had eaten and Sherlock had changed him, the trio finally made it to Lestrade's car, parked outside the flat.

* * *

><p>The first time Molly awoke she was alone; initially all she could think about was the intense throbbing in her head. Then it suddenly hit her; she had been attacked. Even though she had given the man her bag he had still hit her, repeatedly.<p>

Slowly, she attempted to open her eyes. When she had finally managed to open them a crack, she immediately recognised where she was; the post-op ward at St Bart's. Molly had only been there once before, to visit a colleague who had just had their appendix taken out. No-one was in the room with her, she was surrounded only by darkness and the beeping of various machines.

Molly hoped Sherlock had offered to look after Ben, her son did not deal well with strangers at the best of times, he would hate it if she wasn't there. At least Lestrade knew about Sherlock, hopefully he would tell him. Molly had no idea how long she had been unconscious for, it could have been merely hours, or maybe days. She lay there, thinking about Sherlock and her son until another shot of sedatives entered her body, dragging her back into the blackness.

The next time she drifted back into consciousness she could hear muffled voices. Molly recognised Sherlock's soft tones, she could hear him speaking softly to someone else, it wasn't until she heard her son's gurgling laugh, that she realised it was Ben. Knowing that Sherlock had been with Ben filled Molly with a sudden calm, that and the next dose of drugs.

Sherlock sat by Molly's bedside, Ben sat on his lap. The toddler was much more content now he was in Molly's presence, Sherlock had tried to explain to Ben why he couldn't sit on Molly and eventually the child had stopped trying to scramble off his knee.

Now Ben was laughing as Sherlock read from his favourite picture book 'Hop on Pop'. Sherlock was barely concentrating on the words, instead focussing on Molly's form; she had yet to wake. Dr Fletcher had said she would wake at some point that day, but he had been unable to specify a time. Sherlock satisfied himself by watching the gentle rise and fall of Molly's chest.

As Sherlock sat there, he considered his and Molly's relationship; if John were around he would not hesitate to claim that Sherlock loved Molly Hooper. Sherlock had discovered over the past few years that he valued companionship, but he wasn't sure he was capable of love. Molly and Ben now occupied an entire wing of his mind palace and he found himself thinking about Molly almost all of the time, but did that qualify as love?

Sherlock's train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Lestrade entering the room.

"Some of Molly's colleagues want to see her." The inspector said. "As you are still meant to be dead and no-one knows about her son, I thought it would be best if you both left for a bit."

"You are correct." He replied coldly, unwilling to leave Molly's side.

"Dr Fletcher said you can sit in the relatives room. I'll show you the way."

Sherlock put the book away and put Ben on the floor, he then stood and pressed a kiss to Molly's forehead, ignoring the look of surprise on Lestrade's face at this intimacy and left the room, his left hand holding on to Ben's right.

As they walked towards the relatives room Sherlock kept his head ducked, slightly uncomfortable to be back in a place he had once frequented, the people here more likely to recognise him that out on the street. However it was a risk he was willing to take, if it allowed him to stay near Molly, stay with Ben.

* * *

><p>Ben and Sherlock remained in the relatives room for the next couple of hours, and Sherlock tried his best to entertain Ben. Eventually both parties grew increasingly bored at being trapped in the small room and Sherlock decided it was high time they left.<p>

Picking up Ben, he strode out of the room, making his way back up the ward Molly was still on. However as he reached her bed, he saw she was not alone, a man in his forties was sat by her, one of the other pathologists, Sherlock deduced from the man's coat. He abruptly turned back, unsure of where else to go, in the end he took Ben to the canteen and sat there as the toddler ate, enjoying his chance to analyse the other patrons from a distance.

After walking around the hospital with Ben, pointing out anything interesting he saw, they finally made it back to Molly's bed and saw the chair beside empty, at last she was alone. Sherlock quickly resumed his seat at her side and placed the now tired toddler back on his lap. He carefully scooted his seat forward a bit and gently took Molly's hand again.

They remained this way as Ben began to fall asleep, obviously comforted by his mother's presence.

The calm was suddenly interrupted by a figure bursting through the curtains surrounding Molly's bed. Sherlock immediately recognised the man and pulled Ben close to him, attempting to hide himself behind the toddler. He couldn't deal with this now.

"Oh my God, Molly." John Watson said, slightly out of breath. He was so preoccupied by Molly's unconscious form that he had failed to notice the pair already at her bedside. "I only just heard, I came straight here."

At that moment John turned and saw the man and child sitting next to Molly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were here." He turned back to Molly again. "Do you know what happened? I only found out because someone told Mary and she told me."

Sherlock debated his options, he knew John would realise it was him eventually, even if he had been put off the scent by the fact he was holding a child. Would it be better to let him work it out, or should he be up front about it, he wondered.

After a few seconds internal debate, he decided. "Surely you can work it out John." He said, his normal patronising voice filling the small space. "The signs are glaringly obvious."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Enjoy!**

**Small Steps**

**Chapter 13**

Sherlock saw John visibly freeze at the sound of his voice, John's entire body tensed up. Sherlock watched as John spun around, his eyes immediately fixing on Sherlock's face.

He could almost hear the thought process going through John's head; the doctor was obviously shocked, his best friend had been pronounced dead and was now stood across the room from him. This fact seemed to distract John so much that he didn't notice, or had forgotten about, the child in Sherlock's arms. This oversight was quickly righted when Ben burst into tears, surprised by John's sudden entrance. Sherlock saw John's clenched fist suddenly relax and a confused expression fix on the doctor's face.

"Sherlock, explain, now." John said firmly, obviously focussing in keeping his voice from breaking mid sentence.

"You always knew everything was not as it seemed." Sherlock stated cryptically. When he noticed that John still looked confused he continued. "Moriarty threatened your lives; you, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. I had to jump to keep you safe."

While he was explaining he kept his gaze on John, watching carefully for any changes in his friend, it had been so long since he had had proper chance to look at him. Sherlock also kept part of bios concentration on Ben, attempting to comfort the toddler without drawing John's attention back to him, he had to finish his explanation of Moriarty's part on the debacle before getting on to Molly's secrets.

Sherlock had imagined telling John the truth many times, it was one of his techniques for staving off boredom at Molly's flat; but he had never envisaged explaining to John over Molly's hospital bed.

By the time he had finished telling John about meeting Lestrade the day before, John had returned to staring at Ben; who's sobs had finally subsided.

"Now I just have to wait for to arrest all the major players in Moriarty's network." Sherlock finished, holding his breath while he saw John think through everything he had just been told.

He stiffened slightly when John suddenly made his way around the bed, nearer to Sherlock and Ben. Sherlock was momentarily unsure whether John was about to hit him or hug him, but all his sound were immediately quashed when John threw his arms around he detective, hugging him tightly.

"Sherlock." John said. "You have definitely missed something out, firstly; why do you have a toddler in your arms?" John motioned towards Ben who was how looking at John, trying to figure out who the strange man was. "Secondly; why are you at Molly Hooper's bedside?"

Sherlock had left Molly out of his previous explanation, preferring to keep his relationship with Molly and Ben entirely separate from Moriarty, even though it was the psychopath that pushed the three of them together.

"Molly helped me fake my own death, I've been staying with her since then." Sherlock paused, watching the shock appear in John's expression.

"Okay." John said slowly. " Why are you holding a child?"

"It appears we underestimated Molly Hooper John." Sherlock said, a small smile on his face. "This is her son, Ben. She kept him from us since we first met."

At that point it all got too much for John, and he quickly sank down onto the chair Sherlock had been sitting on. "Molly has a son." John said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And you're... you're alive!" His face was pale as he slowly recovered from the surprise.

Apart from Sherlock's soft, comforting murmurs to Ben the small

cubicle was silent. So when a quiet noise broke the calm both men spun around quickly.

"Sherlock?" Molly whispered, her voice croaky.

"Molly, I'm right here." Sherlock replied, crouching down next to her. One arm still around Ben, he lifted his other hand and gently smoothed the hair off her forehead. "Molly, do you remember what happened?" He asked quietly, his lips close to her ear.

Molly nodded, and then winced slightly from the pain in her head. "Ben?" She asked.

"He's here too, Mycroft sorted it so I could look after him, he's fine Molly."

While talking to Molly Sherlock had almost completely forgotten about John's presence. It wasn't until John let forward and passed Sherlock a glass of water.

"She's been unconscious for almost twenty four hours, her mouth will be dry." The doctor said calmly, but Sherlock could tell he was struggling to control his breathing, still shocked from all of the revelations he had only just heard.

Sherlock carefully helped Molly sip from the glass of water, she was still weak, but Sherlock knew it was only a matter of time until she returned to full health.

They all sat there in silence for a few minutes; Sherlock staring at Molly intently, Molly watching her son an John looking between Sherlock and Molly, pondering the extent of their relationship. However it did not take long for a nurse to ask them to leave so she could check Molly over, now that she had awoken.

As they stood in the corridor together, the silence between the two men quickly turned awkward.

John took a step towards Sherlock and Ben. "So this is Ben?" He asked.

"Yes, this is Benedict Hooper. It's his third birthday tomorrow."

"Wow." John said. "I can't believe Molly managed to keep him a secret all this time."

"I couldn't either, to begin with." Sherlock said, looking at Ben. "But I understand her reasoning now, I for one would definitely have judged her if I had known when we first met."

"And now?" John asked. He was still bemused by the way Sherlock acted around the toddler, he would never have imagined Sherlock around any child by choice, but Sherlock was now holding Ben as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The detective was looking down at Ben with a protective gaze, almost lovingly John thought.

"I'm not sure." Sherlock answered honestly.

"I know you looked after Ben last night, but you do realise Molly's not going to be out of hospital for at least a few days." John said. " Will you be able to cope?"

"Of course." Sherlock replied automatically, but then he hesitated. "I think." He added.

Just as John was about to speak, the nurse who had been with Molly appeared in the corridor.

"You can go back in now." She said. "From what I can tell Ms Hooper is making a steady recovery."

"It's Dr Hooper." Sherlock interrupted.

"Of course, my mistake." The nurse corrected herself. "Dr Fletcher will be up to see Dr Hooper in about a quarter of an hour."

Sherlock immediately turned and strode back to Molly's bedside.

"Thank you." John said to the nurse before turning to follow his friend. He took his time walking back, this was not the way he had expected the day to go. He had believed Sherlock to be dead for almost five months, he had just begun to get on with his life, he had even met someone. John was also surprised at how quickly he had slipped back into the role of, what was he to Sherlock; he wondered... his sidekick?

As he parted the curtain around Molly's bed he almost gasped at the scene he saw in front of him. Sherlock had moved the chair so he was as close to Molly as possible, Ben was perched between them on the side of the bed, chattering excitedly to Molly, and Sherlock and Molly where holding hands.

Molly looked up at him as he entered. " I'm sorry John, I should have told you about Ben."

"It's alright Molls." He replied, they had grown quite close while they had both helped Sherlock on cases, both often being left behind in the morgue. "You." He looked pointedly at Sherlock. "Don't have anything to apologise for." He walked forwards and gently hugged her.

"Thanks." She replied.

"I'm sorry, but I've got to go, I'm meant to be meeting Mary at four." John said, hoping, futilely, that Sherlock wasn't listening.

Of course, however, he was. "Mary?" Sherlock asked.

"I met her a few days ago." He replied, smiling at the thought of their first meeting. He had met her at the clinic he was volunteering at. "She's a paediatrician, we've only gone out a couple of times, but she's different."

"That's wonderful." Molly said, a wide grin on her face. "You go John, I'll be fine."

"I'll come back tomorrow, Sherlock if you need anything; ring me." John said firmly before leaving.


	14. Chapter 14

Small Steps

Chapter 14

Sherlock remained at Molly's bedside until visiting hours ended at eight that evening, he tried to threaten the nurses with Mycroft's pull, but they ignored him. It was finally Molly that persuaded him to go, pointing out how tired Ben was.

Molly had been asleep for a lot of the afternoon, dozing off not long after Dr Fletcher, who was also pleased with her progress, visited. However Sherlock was content just staying there, pleased that Molly now could wake up. It was infinitely better than waiting there without a clue of when she would wake.

Sherlock hesitated before leaving, Molly had already hugged both of them, but Sherlock couldn't help thinking of all of the other times he had left her bedside; each time he had kissed her forehead. This time she was awake, and for some reason that changed things. He had been holding her hand since she had woken, but it still seemed to be awkward now.

Ignoring his worries Sherlock leant down and whispered in her ear as he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Get better Molly." He stood again. "We'll be back first thing tomorrow." With that he left, leaving Molly with a puzzled expression.

* * *

><p>Molly was confused, but strangely satisfied. Initially, she had not questioned that Sherlock had been holding her hand for the last few hours. However after that strange encounter she thought back on the entire afternoon; ever since she had woken Sherlock had been acting strangely. Originally she had thought it had had something to do with John's presence, obviously having to tell your best friend you weren't really dead would be stressful, but Sherlock's behaviour had not changed after John left.<p>

When she had woken, alone in the night, she had hoped that Sherlock would offer to look after Ben and it seemed her wish had been granted. She had been amazed by how good Sherlock was with her son. It warmed her heart that they had managed so well, that they had developed such a strong relationship already. Molly had been worried that Ben had no male figures in his life, and although she would never have pictured Sherlock as a role model, she could now sort of see him as one. He had definitely become a permanent fixture in her son's life.

It was with the image of the three of them as a small, if slightly dysfunctional, family fixed in her mind, that she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>The evening back at Molly's flat began as if it was any other night, but again Ben quickly noticed the lack of Molly's presence and became tetchy and upset. A couple of hours passed and Sherlock had still not managed to comfort him, finally Sherlock grabbed the baby bag, and with Ben held to his chest, he left the flat.<p>

Sherlock quickly hailed a cab and made his way to his old home. As always, the door to 221b was not locked. Sherlock didn't even consider trying to enter quietly as Ben was still screaming. Instead he strode up the stairs and threw the door open with a bang.

After entering the living room, he resumed the pacing he had begun at Molly's, in an apparently futile attempt to calm Ben. It was not long before two more figures burst into the room. John was only dressed in pyjama bottoms and was accompanied by a brunette woman wearing only a man's shirt, a shirt Sherlock immediately recognised as John's.

"Sherlock." John said, his voice loud so he could be heard over Ben's screams. "Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock asked. "I can't get Ben to stop crying, it's been hours. I need some help."

John was surprised to hear his friend asking for help, it was so unlike the Sherlock he had known, but then he had already realised how much his friend had changed. Because of this pause, it was his companion that stepped forwards and spoke before he could reply.

"Hello I'm..." She began before Sherlock interrupted.

"You're Mary Morstan." Sherlock finished. "You are also a junior paediatrician at St Bart's and have a passion for crime dramas, one of the many things that drew you to John."

"And you, of course are Sherlock Holmes, thought to have committed suicide when outed as a fake. However as you are alive now, the latter statement must be false. Only a genius, with sociopathic tendencies, would have been able to fake his own death in such a way and get away with it without a hint of doubt." Mary took a step towards Ben and Sherlock. "And, you are a cutie." She said to Ben, who's sobs had started to stop as he focused on the woman in front of him. "May I?" She asked Sherlock, her arms out to take Ben from him.

Wordlessly Sherlock handed her the toddler. Mary quickly held a palm to Ben's forehead.

"He's got a temperature." She stated simply, but quickly clarified when she saw the look on Sherlock's face. "It's only minor, probably from being overtired. I'll go get him some Calpol, I have some in my bag." Mary left the room, Ben still in her arms.

Sherlock just stared after them, still shocked. John tried to restrain himself, but failed, and burst out laughing.

"You're face if a picture." He said to Sherlock when he finished laughing.

"She... She's..." Sherlock managed to say, still stuck for proper words. "What just happened?" He was finally able to ask.

"You just met my girlfriend." John said, a wide smile still on his face.

"She's certainly different." Sherlock said. "I think you might finally have found someone suitable."

"I'm glad you agree." Mary said from John's doorway. "I happen to quite like your ex-roommate."

"Where's Ben?" Sherlock, a hint of worry colouring his voice.

"He's sleeping. Calpol always works wonders, but I think he'll probably wake up if you try to take him home."

"Have you changed my room?" Sherlock asked John.

"Nope." John replied. "I couldn't bring myself to even go in there."

"In that case we will stay in there." Sherlock made to move towards John's room. " If that's alright?" He added as an afterthought.

"Of course, Mycroft's still been paying your half of the rent, so it's still your room."

"Thank you." Sherlock said earnestly to both of them. He quickly retrieved Ben from John's room and gently moved him to his own, carefully surrounding him with cushions so the toddler couldn't roll off the bed. After making sure Ben was comfortable and still asleep, Sherlock returned to the living room where only John remained.

"Mary's gone back to bed, she has work tomorrow morning." John explained. "We should talk."

"We talked at the hospital." Sherlock said defensively.

"Well you disappeared for five months, I have more than a few questions." John retorted quickly.

Sherlock huffed and sank into his old chair. "Ask away." He thought he had covered all the possible important questions in his explanation earlier that day.

"Fine, firstly; what is going on between you and Molly." John asked.

"Nothing. We are only room-mates, just like you and I were." Sherlock said, not wanting to try to explain the complex things he was currently feeling with regards to Molly. He just needed some more time alone in his mind palace to sort through them.

"Don't lie to me Sherlock." John said firmly. "Our relationship was nothing like the one you and Molly have now. Talk to me about it, it will help."

Sherlock paused debating what to do, he knew John would not persevere with his questions if he cut him off now, but some part of him wanted to discuss it with John. It was almost like they were on a case.

"I'm not sure." Sherlock said while staring at his lap. "I know I care for her and Ben, I feel at home with them, but I don't know what that means." With that he fell back into silence, his chin now supported by his arched fingers.

"I think you do Sherlock." John said quietly as he left the room, leaving his friend deep in thought.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the last few chapters: Adi Who is Also Mou, SpencerReidFan89, superlc529, magicstrikes, ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, MarvelDC superhero fan, chaoticmom, chironsgirl, barus, patemalah21, MorganaAlexander, MuteBanana, Zora Arian, SteamPunk'93, annie, DarcyJanyne and . Also thanks to all of the anonymous reviews, I never expected such an amazing response.**

**I hope you read, enjoy and review this next chapter. DFTBA! #believeinSherlock**

Small Steps

Chapter 15

The next morning John awoke early, still partially in the confines of sleep he momentarily forgot the previous day's events. He sat straight up in his bed when he remembered, rousing Mary with the sudden movement.

"John, what's wrong?" Mary asked.

"Nothing." He replied. "Go back to sleep.

As Mary drifted back to sleep John carefully got out of the large bed. As he exited his room he half expected Sherlock to still be sat up thinking. But the living room was now empty, John sank into the sofa, the previous day had been so hectic he had barely had a chance to think it all through.

John had always hoped that Sherlock hadn't really died, but as the weeks without his best friend turned to months; his belief in Sherlock's survival had begun to dwindle. However it wasn't until John had met Mary that he had really started to live again, and it had to be now that Sherlock decided to come back. He had really missed his best friend, but he had to admit that Sherlock had terrible timing and little to no tact. John briefly wondered how long it would have taken Sherlock to tell him the truth; if he hadn't walked in on Sherlock and Ben at Molly's bedside.

John rose from the sofa, heading for Sherlock's bedroom to check on Ben, he wouldn't be surprised if the detective had left the flat for the night to investigate something or other.

As he opened the door John almost gasped with shock, both Sherlock an Ben were on the bed; Ben still protected by his barrier of cushions and Sherlock curled protectively around the toddler. Even while living with the detective, John had rarely seen his room-mate sleep. Sherlock looked much more innocent in sleep, the calculating look lost from his face.

After quietly closing the door John returned to bed, still thinking about how much his friend had grown during their months apart.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was awoken by the sound of movement in the next room, and soft light hitting his face through the partly open curtains. From the angle the light was entering the room, Sherlock realised it was mid morning, neither he nor Ben had slept for this long in ages. He quickly looked up and saw that Ben was also waking. Picking the toddler up before Ben began crying he swiftly left his bedroom.<p>

Reaching the fridge, to find something for Ben's breakfast, Sherlock was not surprised to find its contents dramatically different to when he had resided at 221b. It no longer contained body parts, but was actually filled with food. After sitting Ben down on the remarkably clean kitchen floor, Sherlock made a simple breakfast, and then passed it to Ben before grabbing a piece of bread for himself.

Sherlock looked up as John entered the kitchen.

"Sleep well?" The doctor asked.

"As well as ever." Sherlock replied, it was nice to sleep in a proper bed, and not on a small, lumpy sofa, but Sherlock felt out of place at 221b, it was no longer his home.

John crouched down next to Ben, instead of trying to continue talking to Sherlock. "Happy Birthday Ben!" He said cheerily, eliciting a smile from the child.

"What are you doing John?" Sherlock asked.

"It's Ben's birthday." John replied. "If deserves to be celebrated."

"But he's three, not thirty. He obviously doesn't know that it's his birthday, so why is a _celebration_ necessary?"

"That's not the point Sherlock." John said. "I'm sure if Molly were up to it she'd want to make a big deal out of it."

Sherlock couldn't argue with that, he knew that Molly had been planning for today for weeks, she had a whole stack of presents wrapped and hidden in her flat.

"Fine." Sherlock agreed reluctantly. "I'm taking Ben in to see Molly later anyway. We can do something then."

"Brilliant." John was more excited than strictly necessary, but he was enjoying seeing this new side of Sherlock. "Mary and I shall meet you there. I'll even buy the cake. Bye bye Ben. See you later Sherlock." John left the flat with a slight skip in his step.

Sherlock forced himself to abandon the idea of a quiet day at the hospital, just Molly, Ben and him. He would force himself to enjoy the day despite this though, if only to see Molly and Ben happy. He decided that Molly would be extremely pleased if he brought the presents she had bought for Ben, so he would go to pick them up before going to the hospital.

* * *

><p>It had taken Sherlock longer than planned to reach the hospital that morning. His attempt to bath Ben had resulted in both of them getting soaked, eventually he had managed to wash the toddler and then proceeded to dry them both. He was glad he had only worn his second best dressing gown that morning, as it was currently in a sodden heap on the bathroom floor.<p>

They had finally reached St Bart's just after midday, and immediately headed up to Molly's ward. The second Sherlock stepped through the curtain surrounding her bed, a huge smile adorned Molly's face.

"Ben." She exclaimed, reaching out for her son.

Sherlock quickly passed the toddler over, and while Molly spoke to Ben, he took the opportunity to look Molly over. She was sitting up properly today, a significant improvement, she also had more colour in her cheeks and the bruises on her wrists were now yellowing, less obvious against her skin.

"Sherlock?" Molly's song voice roused him from his observations. He looked up at her face. "I asked you how last night went." She said, apparently for the second time.

"He had a slight temperature." Sherlock replied. "So I took him over to John's and Mary said he was just overtired." He quickly explained, he had been unbelievably worried the night before when Mary had said Ben was ill, and he was sure Molly would have felt ten times worse. "She gave him some Calpol and we ended up staying there overnight."

"I should have been there, Ben needed me and I wasn't there." Molly said, holding Ben tightly. "I can't stay here any longer, I'll discharge myself." A small tear ran down her right cheek.

"Molly, there was nothing more you could have done." Sherlock said quietly, laying his hand over here's. "Ben was fine, he is fine. You can't leave now, you're not better yet. If you want I'll stay with John, that way he and Mary can help me."

"But... " Molly started.

"It will only be for a few days, then you'll be well enough to leave." Sherlock paused and fixed Molly with his gaze, looking straight into her eyes. "Trust me Molly Hooper, it will be fine."

Molly suddenly found herself unable to do anything but nod, looking into Sherlock's eyes she felt strangely safe, somehow she knew the man in front of her would do anything for both her and Ben.

Sherlock, seemingly pleased with her non-verbal response, sat down in the chair beside her bed and took her hand, interlocking their fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I suppose I had better warn you." Sherlock said. "I may have mentioned to John that it is Ben's birthday today, and now he and Mary are planning on coming here to _celebrate_ it."

Molly could tell from the tone that Sherlock was not particularly pleased by this turn of events. "You don't have to stay." She said. "You can go and come back later if you want." She motioned towards the gap in the curtain with their joined hands.

Sherlock only shrugged in response, he ended up sitting there in silence until John and Mary arrived forty minutes later. He passed the time listening to Molly chat to her son, she was trying to teach him new words, Sherlock mentally stored everything he heard.

John's arrival brought forth a round of hugs between Molly and the couple, forcing Sherlock to drop Molly's hand. It transpired that Molly and Mary had met before, a situation that didn't surprise Sherlock as St Bart's was a small hospital, the chances of two of its workers never meeting was highly unlikely, especially two people similar in age and disposition.

"We don't have long." John said. "But I brought cake." He pulled a box from the carrier bag he held and showed them all the 'Very Hungry Caterpillar' cake he had bought.

"John, you shouldn't have." Molly said, but her expression contradicted her; she was beaming with happiness.

"It's nothing." John replied, also smiling. "We can't **not** celebrate Ben's birthday, it's not everyday you turn three." He shot a pointed look at Sherlock.

Sherlock ignored John's comment and zoned out for most of the 'party', instead busying himself by texting Lestrade to ask how long it would be until he had arrested all of Moriarty's cronies. The inspector replied saying it would still take a couple of days due to the sheer number of criminals involved.

Sherlock put his phone away annoyed, as much as he enjoyed living with Molly he still despised the lack of freedom he had. He decided that when the truth became publicly known, the first thing he would do would be to take Molly and Ben out, to thank them for letting him stay. Sherlock sank into his mind palace, thinking through everything he had learned about Molly in the past months, determined to plan the perfect outing.

Sherlock was not distracted from this process until he realised that Dr Fletcher had drawn back the curtains surrounding them.

"You're doing well Molly, I think you'll be out of here sooner than we expected." The doctor looked down, examining his notes. "Probably by tomorrow evening."

Sherlock felt a smile spread across his face, he had only been without Molly for two days, but it felt like longer. Then it hit him. Now John knew he was alive he would be expected to go back to 221b, to resume his old life where it had left off.

"Isn't that brilliant Sherlock." Molly said. "By tomorrow evening everything will be back to normal. As if this never happened."

A pain ripped through Sherlock's chest, Molly wanted him to leave. She wanted to forget the months they had spent together. Swiftly he stood and strode out of the cubicle, leaving the others looking confused.

He refused to let Molly do this to him. He had been right, caring was a disadvantage, if the way he was feeling now was anything to go by, then letting himself care for Molly was the biggest mistake he could have made.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hi, a couple of people have said that they weren't able to read this chapter after I put it up, so I'm going to re-upload it, sorry for the extra e-mails if you follow it.**

**Thanks and DFTBA!**

Small Steps

Chapter 16

John returned to the flat an hour after Sherlock had walked out of the hospital, having spent almost forty minutes trying to reassure Molly that this behaviour was normal for Sherlock, that it wasn't her fault. Eventually the pathologist had agreed to stay in hospital, only after John had volunteered to go and find the AWOL detective. John hadn't realised how much he enjoyed spending time with Molly, even in such an undesirable situation. In the months following Sherlock's fall John had rarely seen anyone, not until Mary had pulled him out of his funk that is.

After leaving St Bart's he had known exactly where to head, if anything; Sherlock Holmes was a creature of habit.

"You need to get up, and back to hospital now Sherlock." John said fiercely.

Sherlock ignored him, neither speaking, nor moving. Sherlock was curled up on the sofa, facing away from John, it seemed the detective had automatically assumed the position he used to take when he was sulking. It used to be because of a lack of cases, John thought, not a woman, not even Irene Adler had made him behave this way.

"You have responsibilities now, if you don't get up and get over what ever you have deemed to be worthy of this child like behaviour Ben is going to be taken into care. I thought you had grown up in the last few months Sherlock, obviously I was mistaken." John almost surprised himself with his speech, as he turned to leave he noticed Sherlock finally move, the detective sat up in one swift movement; immediately placing his head in his hands.

"Molly doesn't want me there." Sherlock said sullenly.

"What are you talking about Sherlock, of course she does."

"No she doesn't. You heard her too." He finally looked up at John. "She said it in the hospital, she wants life to return to normal, as it was before I invaded it. Molly Hooper cannot wait for me to leave."

John almost laughed out loud, he had not realised the extent of his friend's feelings for Molly, Sherlock loved her, he was just too stubborn to admit it.

"For a self proclaimed genius, you can sure be an idiot." He said. "That isn't what Molly meant, she wants to return to before she was attacked, when you were living together."

"Why would she want that?" Sherlock asked, doubting John's words. "I have been nothing but a hindrance to her these last few months, she has every right to ask me to leave. I no longer need to stay with her, so why should I expect her to let me."

"Maybe because, for some reason unknown to me, she actually enjoys your company and likes living with you. Or maybe because she loves you, just like you love her."

"She doesn't love me John, don't be so infantile." Sherlock retorted sharply. "She just had a crush, a crush that she is obviously now over."

However John wasn't fooled by Sherlock's argument, he had noticed both the look that flashed in Sherlock's eyes when he had suggested Molly loved him, and that he hadn't denied his love for her.

"It seems I can't convince you." John said. "But you have at least a basic knowledge of human behaviour, examine what you know about Molly's behaviour towards you and come to your own conclusion." He paused to allow his words to sink through his friend's stubbornness. "Be careful Sherlock, if you screw up again now you may lose her forever." John turned and left 221b, leaving Sherlock to ponder his words.

* * *

><p>Molly hated how much she had ended up relying on Sherlock, just for him to end up disappointing her again. A few months ago she would not have been surprised by Sherlock's abrupt departure, but she had thought he had started to care about her and Ben. She had been stupid to think that Sherlock would actually put someone else above himself, he never had before and it was safe to say he probably never would.<p>

Molly held Ben close to her as she thought, Mary had had to return to work and John had left to find Sherlock, she was alone but for her son. Sherlock wouldn't return, she decided, now he no longer had to pretend to be dead he would now move back to 221b with John, she was sure he couldn't wait to escape the confines of her small flat.

With no one there to prevent her, Molly carefully got out of the bed she had occupied for the past few days. Placing Ben back on the bed she slowly changed into some of the clothes Sherlock had brought her. She felt much more comfortable in her own attire than the hospital issued gown she had been wearing, now dressed in jeans and baggy t-shirt she cautiously pulled back the curtain, checking the ward was clear of nurses. Seeing it was, Molly quickly shouldered the two bags and picked up her son, wincing as the weight pulled on her stitches.

Having learnt all about blending in from Sherlock, she walked confidently, acting as though she belonged.

Luckily no-one recognised her on her ward and everyone else in the hospital knew her as an employee and not a patient, so didn't question her departure, just assuming her shift was over. Molly was amazed that nobody asked about the child she held, but then she had never made many friends at work, always preferring to keep to herself.

The trip back to her flat was not difficult, but she knew the amount she was moving wasn't good for her, this was blatantly evident when she finally reached her home. There was a small amount of blood staining the pale top where it covered her stitches.

It did not take Molly long to put Ben down, he had obviously not slept enough over the past few days. Molly didn't blame Sherlock for her son's fatigue, instead she was quite pleased as it have her a chance to clean her wound. After re-bandaging her stomach Molly quickly fell asleep, pleased to be back in her own bed.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy...**

Small Steps

Chapter 17

It wasn't until he glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece, that Sherlock realised he had been sitting there, immersed in his mind palace, for almost nine hours. He had barely moved since John had left earlier, the doctor's speech had shocked Sherlock, literally left him speechless.

He knew that John had gone to see Mary, to rant about his 'idiotic', 'stubborn' roommate, this didn't matter to Sherlock though, in fact John Watson's whereabouts had never mattered less to him, all he had been thinking about was Molly; innocent, friendly, loving Molly Hooper and her son. It had not taken him long to rationalise his feelings towards her, John had been right, he cared for her deeply, and in conventional terms it probably did count as love, but Sherlock didn't feel the need to quantify his feelings with a word. He had then spent hours analysing every single one of Molly's actions since they had met, paying greatest attention to the ones that had occurred since they had been living together. It had taken all evening but Sherlock finally had to admit that, however improbable, all the evidence suggested that his feeling were reciprocated. After coming to this conclusion he had quickly decided on his next actions.

Sherlock felt slight pangs of hunger but ignored them, there were more important things to do. He leapt to his feet, only pausing briefly up stretch; awaking his stiff limbs, and then quickly dashed to the flat.

Even though it was two in the morning, it only took Sherlock a few minutes to hail a taxi; although his tall, imposing figure often intimidated people when they met him, taxi drivers seemed drawn to him, always stopping quickly. They had probably heard rumours of a man on Baker Street who tipped well, Sherlock decided, or perhaps it was just coincidence, or maybe Mycroft had paid every cabbie in London, or ... He forced himself to stop thinking about it, instead focussing on his mental map of London and tried to work out how long it would take to get to St Bart's.

It took fourteen minutes thirty seven seconds to reach the hospital, and then another three minutes twelve seconds for Sherlock to reach Molly's ward; he had had to sneak past the security as visiting hours were long since over.

As he cautiously pulled back the curtain surrounding Molly's bed Sherlock involuntarily held his breath, he was half excited and half nervous to see Molly. They had only been separate for one evening but it felt like longer, especially after the way he had left.

When he saw the empty bed Sherlock briefly thought he had the wrong cubicle, but quickly ignored that thought, he didn't make stupid mistakes like that. Molly had to have left. Sherlock sank down onto the vacated bed, all of the energy suddenly fleeing his body, he had built himself up to see Molly and her absence shocked him.

It was his fault, Molly must have left because he had, she wouldn't have been thinking clearly. She must have truly believed that he had left them for good, Molly wouldn't want to risk Ben being taken into care so she had put herself at risk to look after him. Guilt flooded Sherlock's body, if anything happened to either Molly or Ben he would never forgive himself. This roused him into action and he pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text to John.

Go to Molly's flat.

17c Epworth Street

SH

Sherlock had just left the hospital when he got John's reply.

I'm keeping out of this Sherlock.

This is between you and Molly.

John

Sherlock quickly typed out his reply as he began the short walk to Molly's flat from the hospital, he had decided it would be quicker than a cab due to the roadworks currently on Chiswell Street.

This is not about that.

Molly is in danger.

Meet me there.

SH

It was not long before Sherlock received a short text from John, who had obviously now realised the severity of the situation, agreeing to meet him there in twenty minutes. Sherlock increased his speed, easing into a steady jog. Molly could be fine, he told himself, but he knew it wasn't certain, there were too many circumstances he had no knowledge about, anything could have happened.

As he turned onto Epworth Street he began to run towards Molly's door, dozens of possible situations flooding his mind. Sherlock sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He reached her door and hammered on it hard, not caring about waking her neighbours, there was no answer. Continuing his knocking Sherlock cursed himself for not bringing the key to her flat. He paused briefly and surveyed the door, only confirming what he already knew, there was no spare key as Molly thought it was unsafe. In the silence Sherlock heard Ben's cries, something must be wrong; Molly had always instantly awoken when Ben began to cry, some sort of mothering instinct it had seemed.

Left with no other option Sherlock backed away from the door, he knew the type of lock Molly had, a couple of strong shoves should break it. Sherlock ran full pelt at the door, slamming his shoulder against it. Nothing. The door didn't so much as shake. Sherlock tried again, with the same outcome, ignoring the shooting pain in his shoulder he repeated this action. With each attempt Ben's screams grew louder and Sherlock's anxiety increased.

Finally the door gave and flew open, Sherlock flew with it, landing on the ground with a thump. Immediately he picked himself up and dashed further into the flat.

Forcing himself to ignore Ben's cries he searched for Molly. It didn't take Sherlock long to find her. Molly was slumped on the small sofa, from a distance it looked like she could be sleeping, but as he approached it became clear this was not the case. Sherlock's gaze was fixed on the large bloodstain covering her t shirt and starting to seep into the sofa. Sherlock knew a human could lose a pint of blood with out it having much effect, but as the amount increased the severity of the effects increased exponentially. He guessed she had lost about a pint and a half, and was still losing more. He quickly loved towards her and knelt besides the low sofa, he gently lifted up her blood soaked top and removed the bandage. Molly's stitches had almost completely come out, leaving a four inch opening.

Sherlock quickly pressed his hand against the gash, trying to stop or at least slow the bleeding, with his other hand he grabbed his phone and dialled 999.

After a hurried conversation with the operator who said the ambulance would be there in six minutes, Sherlock looked back down at Molly; from the chest up she looked fine. He gently brushed the hair from her face, instantly regretting it as he left a trail of her blood, marring her smooth, perfect skin.

A strange peace filled the room as Sherlock watched Molly's chest rise and fall, fearing that if he looked away the movement would stop. A couple of minutes passed before John burst into the room.

"Sherlock, what happened?" He asked, while hurrying towards them.

"I went to the hospital and she'd gone, I realised she'd come here. When I got here she was like this." He looked up at John, fear in his eyes. "I don't know what to do."

Before John could reply Molly's breathing suddenly changed, instead of the shallow but regular breaths Sherlock had been focussing on, her breaths were now rapid and gasping, shaking through her whole body.

"She's lost too much blood, she's going into shock." John said gravely. "We don't have much time."

As John knelt down to try and do something, they could faintly hear approaching sirens.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, but my life has been pretty hectic, last week was A-Level results... And it's now official, in September I'm going to Bath Uni! I cannot wait.**

**Anywho, here's the next chapter, I hope you read, enjoy and review. DFTBA!**

Small Steps

Chapter 18

Sherlock sat alone in the empty room, his fingers steepled below his chin. Try as he might to remain in the present, his mind kept returning to earlier in the evening, forcing him to relive the whole gut wrenching experience.

_When the paramedics had finally arrived at Molly's flat John had had to physically force Sherlock to leave the room, to let the paramedics do their job. After leaving Sherlock in the hall, too shocked to move John had returned to Molly's side, ready to help._

_It only took a few seconds for Sherlock to shake himself back into action, he knew John was right, he would be of no help to Molly if he just got in the way. Instead he strode towards Ben's room, trying to block out the worried voices emanating from the living room. Sherlock quickly picked up the screaming toddler, his mere presence seemed to comfort the toddler and Ben's cries abated._

_Suddenly the entire flat went silent. Then Sherlock heard loud, hurried footsteps as one of the paramedics sprinted from the living room. Holding the now quiet Ben close he strained his ears, he could just make out John's voice._

_"Come on Molly." The doctor said, his voice panic stricken._

_Sherlock could also hear something else, a rhythmic pounding. The ominous sounds of CPR._

A knock at the door shocked Sherlock back to the here and now.

"What?" He asked harshly.

John opened the door and entered cautiously. "Sherlock we need to talk." He started. "You can't just hide in here, because of Mycroft's interference before you are now named as Molly's next of kin and Ben's guardian if anything should happen to her."

"I can't." Sherlock whispered, his voice barely audible.

"You have to." John replied. "I'll leave you alone for now, but Ben needs you, get yourself together."

As soon as the door shut behind John Sherlock slipped back into his memory.

It was only the child in his arms that prevented Sherlock from returning to Molly's side, he knew that it was at at this age that young children began remembering things, and no toddler should see what he knew to be happening to Molly.

Instead he let his back slip down the wall he was leaning against and just listened.

_After another cycle of CPR, thirty compressions to two breaths, there were more footsteps as the other paramedic returned. Then ripping plastic and an automated voice, as Sherlock had deduced the paramedic had been fetching a defibrillator, a few seconds of silence passed and then a loud "Stand Clear", followed by a thump as Molly's body was shocked. Then more CPR as the process was repeated._

_Sherlock couldn't cope, he stood, still holding Ben tightly, and hurried out of the flat. The fresh air calmed him slightly, but his mind was still firmly fixed inside the flat, imagining what could be happening. Sherlock knew that there was only a thirty percent chance Molly would survive, and that even if they managed to restart her heart they still had to get her to a hospital and stop the bleeding. Her body was going into hypovolemic shock and her heart would keep stopping until the blood she had lost was replaced._

_Sherlock's thought process was interrupted by the sudden appearance of one of the paramedics, who quickly threw open the doors of the ambulance and grabbed the scoop stretcher before running back up to the flat._

_That was a good sign, Sherlock decided, if they needed a stretcher they must be planning on taking her to hospital._

_Sherlock barely allowed himself to breath over the next few minutes, he just stood there, gaze fixed on the door, waiting for someone to appear from it._

_It was not long before the paramedics and John appeared, carrying Molly on the stretcher between them. After placing Molly in the ambulance one of the paramedics finally turned to Sherlock._

_"We managed to restart her heart, but she's still very sick. We're taking her to St Bartholomew's, can you and your son meet us there?"_

_Sherlock just nodded mutely in response, with all the confirmation he needed the paramedic leapt back into the ambulance and slammed the doors behind himself. Sherlock watched in silence as the ambulance sped away, lights flashing._

_John approached him quickly. "You heard what he said Sherlock, she's got a chance." John looked down at his phone, reading a text he had just received. "Lestrade's on his way to take us to St Bart's, is there anything we need to take for Ben?" He asked._

_Sherlock nodded again and handed Ben to John. "I'll get it." He said quietly, before walking back up the stairs to Molly's flat._

It had not taken them long to get to St Bart's, Sherlock had again been allowed to see Molly briefly before she was rushed to surgery. Since then Sherlock had been sat alone in the empty relatives room of St Bart's, leaving John, and Mary who had got there not long after them, to look at Ben.

He could not face them. Sherlock knew it was his fault that Molly was in this state again, if he hadn't acted like such a stubborn child Molly wouldn't have felt the need to return to her flat. She would have still been here, but getting ready to leave the next day, not fighting for her life in theatre once again.

He would not let it happen again.

Sherlock stood and finally left the dark room, entering the shockingly bright corridor outside. He quickly spotted Mary and Ben sat on chairs not far from him, as he approached Mary said nothing and wordlessly handed Ben to him. The toddler seemed pleased to see him and immediately put his arms around Sherlock's neck, holding himself tightly to the detective.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said softly into Ben's ear, and hugged him gently.

"Sherlock, it's not your fault." Mary said quietly.

"I shouldn't have left." He replied simply.

"And neither should have Molly. You're both adults and should have known better, no one is solely to blame."

Sherlock sat down next to Mary, John had definitely made a good choice. "Thank you Mary." He said.

"You're welcome Sherlock." She replied and gently took his hand. "I'm sure she'll be fine, Molly's a fighter."

They remained there in silence until John returned flanked by another doctor, Dr Fletcher.

"Dr Fletcher was just telling me that Molly's through the worst, they managed to get her here before the rest of her body shut down. She should be fine." John said, smiling weakly. "However she will have to stay here for a couple of weeks, until she's fully recovered, just in case."

"She's back in the intensive care unit." Dr Fletcher interjected. "And is going to be on a ventilator for a couple of days, but then we'll be able to move her onto a ward."

Sherlock didn't realise how tense he had been until that moment, his entire body relaxed, the enormous pressure lifted. He suddenly felt exhausted, distantly he heard John thank Dr Fletcher as he left.

"Sherlock are you alright?" John asked.

"Yes, much better now. Are we allowed to go and see Molly now?"

"No, sorry." He said. "She's still too unstable for visitors, but we can come back tomorrow. I asked Lestrade to go back to Molly's and get Ben's cot and some other things and bring them to Baker St." He looked at Sherlock as if he was going to argue with his assumption that he would be returning to Baker St, but Sherlock made no comment. "Let's go then, I think everyone needs to sleep."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Once again sorry for the wait, been busy, as always. Hope you enjoy and review (if you can even remember what happened before). DFTBA! #believeinsherlock**

Chapter 19

Sherlock hadn't slept for the three days Molly had been unconscious in the ICU of St Bart's. He hadn't had time to sleep, his days were filled with caring for Ben and sitting at Molly's side, any time he wasn't involved with one of these activities he consumed himself with searching for Molly's attacker. When Molly had first been admitted he had put off this job, resolving to leave it to the police and instead staying with Molly, but when the nurses had refused to let him stay with Molly overnight he had had to find something to fill his nights, sleep consistently evading him. After starting the search, he had become obsessed, not allowing himself to rest, it was far too important.

Sherlock had re-examined everything he had first deduced, Molly's attacker was six foot three, male and around thirty four years old. He had then hacked Lestrade's police account and accessed the national database, but it was no use. The attacker was either to clever to be caught previously or it was his first offence and he had got lucky. Sherlock had been too late to visit the scene of the crime, and the report Anderson had filed had been abysmal at best.

The detective quickly grew increasingly frustrated, he knew it had been a while since he had worked on this kind f case, but none of Moriarty's men had taken him this long to track down. It had only taken him two nights to find the last of them, and that had been Moriarty's self proclaimed number two, however Sherlock suspected that Moran would never have suggested this while Moriarty was alive.

Thinking about it, Sherlock remembered that this was the night Lestrade had planned to arrest the majority of Moriarty's web. It was a mass operation, the inspector had told Sherlock, which was why it had taken a few nights to organise, he had also refused to let Sherlock join them, again playing the 'you should be dead' card. Like and average police officer would realise it was him, Sherlock had thought, most of them were less observant than a goldfish. He hadn't pushed the matter though, instead focussing on his own case, he couldn't waste any more time, Moriarty, and his men, would all be done with be the morning.

The rest of the night passed as the previous three had, with Sherlock frantically searching through every relevant database and website he could find. He finally started to realise why everyone had called him cold, when referring to the way he dealt with victim's family, as he read about other attacks that had happened recently, he felt his stomach turning as he thought of some of the horrific occurrences happening to Molly. When she got out of hospital, he wasn't going to let her out of his sight.

He and Ben were still staying at Baker Street, although he had not refused the first night, Sherlock had tried to return to Molly's for the second, however John had point blank refused, insisting they stay.

"_And what happens when you go out in the middle of the night to follow a lead, Sherlock?" John had asked. "You'll take Ben with you? Or maybe you will leave him with one of your many contacts in the homeless community?"_

_Sherlock had had to think about that, there were many people in his homeless network that he would trust with his own life, but he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Ben with one of them._

_John hadn't left him a chance to reply. "If you stay here, with us, Mary and I will be around if you need to go out. Don't deny it Sherlock." John had said, having seen the determined look set on Sherlock's face. "It's your best option and you know it."_

_And so the matter had been 'settled', at least in John's opinion, Sherlock on the other hand was not completely convinced, but let it go. He could tell that John didn't want to lose his best friend again._

Surprisingly his stay at Baker Street, despite the circumstances, had been better than Sherlock had expected. Mary and John had kept out of his way, and when he did see them at meal times; he was feeding Ben, he couldn't risk food slowing him down, the conversation was interesting. Mary Morstan was definitely the best match John had dated so far, she was not afraid to speak her mind and did so clearly and concisely. Sherlock was pleased that John had found her, and if the way they acted around each other was anything to go by, their relationship was sure to last. It was clear even to Sherlock, who was only just beginning to learn about these things, that they were already in love.

* * *

><p>By the next morning Sherlock had decided that Molly's attacker had a military background, the precise positioning of the punches indicated combat training, and, following on from this, it was not his first attack. What still puzzled Sherlock was why Molly, she was not the normal type of victim for a straight forward mugging, when a young women was attacked it was normally for other purposes. Also the location of the attack was so precise, it was the one quiet back street on Molly's route from Vicky's to St Bart's, every other part of her journey was lit. It slowly dawned on him, this wasn't some <em>random<em> attack.

Sherlock sprung up from the sofa as full realisation hit him, Molly Hooper had no enemies, she had never so much as insulted someone, there was no way she could have inspired such a hate filled act. How stupid he had been, it had taken Mycroft only a matter of days to find him. He had lived with Molly for five months, he had gone out in pubic with her regularly and after the first couple of months he had barely been disguised. He had gotten lazy, and because of his stupidity someone had found out. Someone had attacked Molly.

Anger coursed through Sherlock's body, it was all his fault, he had been right. It was not only his fault that Molly had left the hospital early, but also because of him that she had been there in the first place.

Sherlock tried to stop himself shaking as he placed a gentle kiss to the still sleeping Ben's foreead. After leaving a hurried note on the kitchen table, Sherlock quickly left the flat. Dashing through the darkened streets of London, Sherlock mentally sorted though he list of criminals, associated with Moriarty, he had compiled over the last few months. Eventually he narrowed it down to the only possible man, Sebastian Moran.

In a sick sort of way a pattern had begun to repeat. There was just one thing Sherlock had left to do.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed, enjoy the next chapter. DFTBA! #believeinsherlock**

Chapter 20

John's life had been consistently changing since the day he met Sherlock Holmes. Never had he envisaged that his chance meeting with Stamford would lead to this. In the past John would have said that Sherlock went out of his way to shock him, the detective committing one outrageous act after another, and the past week and a half was no exception.

Sherlock's behaviour, his very personality, seemed to have changed since the fall, but John was convinced it wasn't solely the jump that had caused this. The way Sherlock looked at Molly and Ben told John more than the detective ever would. He knew Sherlock had cared for him, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, he had jumped off a building for them for pities sake, but it was nothing compared for how he obviously felt for Molly and her son.

Having lived and worked with Sherlock for so long, he had definitely picked up a few things. He had observed the protective way Sherlock cradled Ben, especially when anyone unknown had approached them at St Bart's. The detective, once quick to mock other's mistakes, ignored it when they assumed he was Ben's dad, John swore he once saw him smile when someone asked how long he and Molly had been married for. John had also seen him holding Molly's hand at every opportunity he could get. It hadn't been much of a deduction to work out that Sherlock loved her, he just wasn't so sure if Sherlock knew that.

These last few days had been another eye opener for John, although they were living together once again, he barely saw Sherlock. The detective instead staying holed up in his room with Ben. However John still heard the tapping of laptop keys at all hours, and knew Sherlock was fixated on working out who had attacked Molly. The few times he had seen him, Sherlock had looked gaunt, the hollow darkened circles under his eyes indicating the extremes he was going to for Molly.

John awoke later than normal that morning, Molly had been in the ICU for four days now, and he knew Sherlock wouldn't be able to cope without food or sleep much longer, it was time he intervened, before the detective ended up in St Bart's as well.

The cold sheets beside him told him Mary had been up for a while, it was her day of, and they were planning on going out for lunch John knew they had only been together for a matter of weeks, but he was sure that Mary was the one, however clichéd that sounded. She had brought him out of the depression he had been in since Sherlock had 'killed' himself, and he would forever be grateful for that.

He pulled on a t-shirt to go with his pyjama bottoms and made his way downstairs to the rest of the flat, as he reached the kitchen he heard the sound of Ben laughing. So Sherlock had decided to grace them with his presence then. John was slightly shocked when he saw Mary, not Sherlock, entertaining Ben.

John walked over to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "What's going on?" He asked her sweetly.

Mary just nodded her head towards a piece of paper on the table, and continued playing peek a boo with Ben.

Picking up the paper John immediately recognised Sherlock's hurried scrawl covering the small page.

_John,_

_I have worked out who attacked Molly, and have gone to deal with him._

_It should not take long._

_Please look after Ben; he likes jam on his toast._

_If Molly wakes up, do not tell her what I'm doing. I do not want her to worry._

_Sherlock._

John marvelled at yet another change in his best friend, in the past he would never have left a note, a short, vague text maybe, but not something like this.

The rest of the morning passed quickly for John and Mary, both kept busy looking after Ben, John was eternally grateful that Mary was there too, although he liked kids, he had no experience looking after them, he had no idea how Sherlock had managed to cope. He heard form Sherlock throughout the day; every hour, on the hour, he received a text asking how Ben was. Whatever questions John put in his reply Sherlock ignored, except when he asked where Percy, Ben's stuffed dragon, was.

Under my bed.

Sherlock replied. Then, seconds later John's phone buzzed again.

He likes it if you do the voice.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was currently hidden in the back streets of Hackney, it had taken him less than an hour to track down Moran's whereabouts; the boarded up shop he was walking past had been easy to pick out. Moran was not nearly as smart as Moriarty, however much he attempted to emulate his late boss.<p>

The detective had also already spotted two 'undercover' police officers; one sat in a café across the street and the other waiting at a bus stop, pretending to speak to someone on his phone. The police force really is inept, Sherlock thought, the two officers were trying so hard to blend in, they stood out.

He, on the other hand, had managed to get round to the back of the shop without being noticed.

Sherlock quickly surveyed the situation that greeted him, the back door had obviously recently been forced, and was now barely on its hinges, with only the chain keeping it shut. Sherlock knew a swift quick would open it easily. Holding his breath, he moved closer, listening carefully.

There were four men inside the shop, Moran and three others. Sherlock paused, he knew the police would be raiding the building soon, should he wait for them, he wondered.

However his mind was made up for him as he heard the scraping of chairs from inside the shop, they were preparing to leave. Sherlock had already promised he wouldn't let Moran get away with attacking Molly, he would see to it personally.

Decision made, Sherlock stepped back and kicked the door hard. It swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang, immediately alerting the men to his presence. Sherlock slowly stepped into the room.

After recovering from the shock Moran stood, a manic smile on his face.

"Well if it isn't the _great_ Sherlock Holmes." Moran said. "Finally figured out it was me? I attacked your missus, and guess what? When we're finished here..." Moran took a step towards Sherlock. "I'll go back and finish the job, maybe even get the baby too."

Sherlock lost it, Moran was only a couple of feet away, so Sherlock pulled back his arm, and punched the psychopath with as much force as he could. Before he could land a second, he was grabbed by two of the other men.

"Oh no, Sherlock." Moran said, smiling despite his bleeding lip. "I'm not giving you any chances; no get out clauses, no ultimatums. This is going to end here, today, this is not a battle of minds. I may not be as intelligent as Moriarty was, but I will beat you. I will kill you, something he never did quite manage."

Sherlock didn't reply for a few seconds, internally counting down.

"Are you sure about that Moran?" He asked, schooling his expression to make himself appear calm, when really the anger was bubbling away inside him. The other four men were paying so much attention to Sherlock that they had failed to notice the shadows passing over the cracks in the boarded up windows.

Moran laughed out loud. "Trust me Sherlock; you cannot talk your way out of this one. And you certainly won't be able to fight your way out. You. Are. Alone. You have no weapon." He laughed again. "Did no one care enough to come with you, no one trusted you enough to listen? You may have outlived Moriarty, but your reputation is still ruined, and you will still die."

"If you're certain." Sherlock said, a slight smirk now on his face. Moran and Moriarty were similar in some ways, for one; they loved the sound of their own voice.

Just as Moran opened his mouth to reply, Sherlock dropped into a crouch, pulling his assailants with him. In the same instant, the door at the front of the shop burst open flooding the dim room with light. Shouts from the entering officers echoed around the area, but Sherlock paid them no heed, instead quickly working his way free from the two men, whose hold had loosened with the shock.

Sherlock approached Moran, still situated in the centre of the room. The criminal's eyes were darting around, trying to find an escape. There was none, the police now visible through the back entrance as well.

Sherlock noticed the glee fade from Moran's eye, as he realised he was done for; however a manic expression quickly took over.

"Not without you." He shouted, brandishing a gun and aiming it towards Sherlock.

Sherlock dove towards him, barely registering the sound of the shot being fired. Almost instantaneously pain ripped through his left bicep, but he had no time to change his plan, he was already on top of Moran, his right forearm pinned over Moran's throat.

"Like I said." Sherlock whispered. "Are you sure?"

Less than a second later, the pair was ripped apart by two of the police officers, and both forced to the floor, the gun kicked from Moran's hands.

Sherlock barely heard them shouting at him to stay down, to put his hands on his heads. As he tried, the pain in his arm started to engulf his mind.

Just before he lost consciousness, a familiar voice breached the darkness.

"Sherlock, is that you?"

"Lestrade." He managed to groan, before the world turned to black.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Well, this is it, I can't believe how long this story ended up! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, still shocked (in a very good way) about the response Small Steps has gotten. To name but a few:lollipop-chan, Annie, Vi-Violence, MollyHooperRules, Jessie Holmes, Lucy36, hollay123, casper22, MarvelDC superhero fan, DarcyJayne, patemalah21, kitkat84, Empress of Verace, MorbidbyDefault, superlc529, Rocking the Redhead, SteamPunk'93, friend2friend1, coloradoandcolorado1, MisplacedHyperQuill, Cumberbabe and Breann. **

**Thanks for baring with me, I hope you enjoy the last chapter of Small Steps.**

**And, as always DFTBA! #believeinsherlock**

**Anna**

**xx**

Chapter 21

Sherlock awoke with both a deadened head and arm, the anaesthetic was still wearing off. Tensing his left arm he felt no pain, just the odd sensation of stitches holding his skin together. It wasn't an altogether new feeling, but Sherlock had never been shot before, stabbed yes, and people seemed to love punching him, but never shot. Sherlock knew it couldn't have been that bad, if he had required orthopaedic surgery he would have been knocked out for longer. He had already worked out it had only been three and a half hours since he had originally lost consciousness.

Satisfied with his brief assessment of his injuries he turned his head, surveying the room. He was in one of the private rooms at St Bartholomew's, his brother's influence involved no doubt. Someone had been sat with him not long before, a chair still pulled up beside his bed, probably John, or maybe Mycroft had sent Anthea to spy on him more completely.

Sherlock carefully removed the IV from his arm, his progress hindered by the sling his left arm was in, Sherlock knew he wouldn't be able to cope with the sling for very long; it impeded his movement, and wasn't really necessary, not if the doctor's had done a good job.

Looking down beside his bed, Sherlock immediately spotted the bag containing his personal belongings. His shirt and top were ruined, but his trousers were still relatively clean, so he pulled them on under his hideous, hospital gown.

Leaving the room, however, was significantly more difficult than finding his clothes, it was now mid-morning, so the corridors were teeming with people. Sherlock tried to walk casually towards the stairs, but it didn't seem to help, when he reached the floor's reception he realised why.

His face was filling the TV screen above the desk, accompanied by the headline 'Reichenbach 'Hero' Returns?'. As he watched, the picture changed to two newsreaders discussing the story. It appeared that someone had filmed the police carrying an unconscious Sherlock out of the shop that morning. This had then quickly caught the media's attention, who had then dragged up the whole kidnapping incident again, until Lestrade had issued a statement explaining the basics of what had happened.

Sherlock nearly sighed with relief, it could have been much worse, at least his name was now clear, he was free to start consulting again, to resume his old life. Well, almost. He knew there were definitely going to be a few changes.

Turning away from the screen, Sherlock continue towards the stairwell, ignoring the staring onlookers, he needed to get out of this gown, it was much too conspicuous. Upon reaching the stairs he continued on the familiar route to Molly's room. There was no way he could easily leave the hospital, he had seen, on the news segment, the masses of journalists swarmed outside the entrance. He really wanted to see Molly, and it was the perfect place to wait it out.

It didn't take long to reach Molly's room, but before he could enter John appeared round a corner, carrying Ben.

"Lestrade rang." John said, still approaching a now stationary Sherlock. "Told us what happened. What did I tell you Sherlock? You have responsibilities now." He gestured to Ben. "You can't run around getting yourself shot."

"I didn't mean to get shot." Sherlock said defensively. "Obviously." He added under his breath.

"That doesn't matter." John's voice was raised now, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Lestrade told me about the file they have on Moran, you must have known how dangerous he was. You shouldn't have risked it."

"It was too important not to. He attacked Molly once, what was to stop him from doing it again." He quickly took Ben from John's arms. "I stopped him." He said forcefully, and, without pausing, turned back and entered Molly's room, leaving a shocked John alone in the corridor.

John stood there silently for almost a minute before he was able to move, he had never seen Sherlock so passionate about something, let alone someone, before. He needed to speak to Lestrade, he decided, before heading down to the entrance where he knew the inspector was waiting.

Meanwhile, Sherlock stood beside Molly's bed, it felt like days since he had last seen her, when in reality it had only been hours. He had already checked her chart, she had been taken off sedation forty minutes earlier, it shouldn't belong until she woke up.

Sherlock was much more content now he could see Molly, however Ben was not, he had already started fidgeting in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock was pretty certain that the three year old was bored of spending so much time cooped up in this room. Ben was also tired, because of the ongoing teething issues and obviously missing Molly. Sherlock could definitely relate to all three.

To try to stop the toddler from starting to cry, Sherlock quickly moved to the small cabinet beside Molly's bed and retrieved one of the toys they had left there the previous day. After scrutinising the area for anything even remotely dangerous, he carefully set Ben down, toy held in his small hands.

Sherlock suddenly felt knackered, he could barely remember the last time he slept, when it hadn't been induced. Settling into the chair beside her bed, he let his gaze switch between Molly, still sleeping peacefully, and Ben, babbling to himself on the floor. He hadn't felt so relaxed since before the fall; Molly would be waking soon, Moran and dozens more of Moriarty's men were behind bars. Sherlock felt safe.

* * *

><p>The second time Sherlock awoke that day he could hear quiet voices. To give him a chance to assess the situation he kept his eyes shut and didn't allow his body to move, except to maintain the slow breathing associated with sleep.<p>

A male was mid sentence when Sherlock began listening.

"...a complete success. They've all been detained." It was Lestrade and he was roughly three meters away, the other side of the bed.

"Sherlock will be pleased. I've never seen him so worked up." A second man, John, said. He was closer, maybe at the foot of the bed..

"Are you sure he's alright?" A third quieter voice asked. A soft, delicate voice that caused Sherlock to burst upwards.

"Molly, you're awake." He said, a huge smile on his face,,

"Well deduced." She said softly, a grin on hers. "I thought you were above stating the obvious?"

All of a sudden Sherlock felt embarrassed by the presence of the others in the room.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, schooling his features slightly. He was still drinking in the image of her conscious, sat up in bed, with Ben on her lap. He didn't think he'd ever enough of seeing them both happy, together and safe.

"I'm fine." Molly replied, her eyes fixed on his face. "Greg and John were just filling me in, on what I've missed."

"They're probably lying." He replied quickly, he dreaded to think what John had said about his lack of responsibility.

"So you didn't try and get justice for me, by single handedly tracking down than attacked me?" Molly asked innocently, a slight smirk on her face.

"Well, yes." Sherlock said reluctantly. "Maybe they're just bending the truth?"

"And you didn't look after my son for the last three, no four, days." Sherlock could hear John and Lestrade chuckling quietly.

"Fine." Sherlock huffed. "There is a possibility they could have told you the truth."

"Thank you Sherlock." Molly said sincerely. "You didn't have to do any of that, but I'm really glad you did. I mean." She blushed slightly. "I'm not glad you got shot or anything. Just thanks."

"That's alright Molly." Sherlock replied, a light blush also colouring his cheeks. "It was nothing."

They continued looking at each other for a couple of minutes until Lestrade broke the silence.

"Well, I don't know if you've seen the news Sherlock, but you've been cleared." At the look Sherlock shot him he quickly backtracked. "Who am I kidding? Of course you have." Lestrade took a deep breath before continuing. "Of all charges in fact, I think the Chief of Police is even going to issue a formal apology later." Lestrade smiled slightly. "I heard something about someone in the government making a fuss..."

John let out a short laugh. "See, I told you Mycroft 'cares' for you."

"Yes, well thank you Inspector, John." Sherlock said, trying to convey his wish to be alone with Molly.

Before he could finish his attempt Molly spoke up, drawing all three's attention back to her.

"That's brilliant news Sherlock." She said, an unconvincing smile fixed on her face. "You can move back to Baker Street, and consult again and..."

Sherlock did the only thing he could think of to stop her talking, he gently pressed his lips to hers, pulling back slightly he whispered. "Molly, please try to refrain from all the unnecessary talking." And then, with barely a second thought to the door thought which John and Lestrade were quietly leaving, he delicately reconnected their lips.


End file.
